


11 | You're it

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [11]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Eleventh in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This eleventh instalment takes place between September 2018 - June 2019, picking up right after all the events of the preceding chapters:'1 | Back to you (Prologue)'‘2 | You, again’‘3 | You & I’‘4 | You with me’'5 | You without me''6 | Back to you'‘7 | Adore you’‘8 | Only you’‘9 | All yours’'10 | With you'.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Series: It’s you [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Comments: 26
Kudos: 24





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

A/N: From approximately halfway through, this chapter references themes that some readers could find triggering... It will be immediately apparent, but, as always, feel free to message me for any more information. 

19th September 2018

After wrapping his tour in mid-July, Harry soon headed back to England with Eloise, eager to rest, relax and reconnect with friends and family.

It took a while for him to adjust.

There's an odd incongruity to the schedule of his working life. When touring or promoting his music, he's dragged from pillar to post, for up to eighteen hours a day. When he's recording, the schedule's more fluid, but time in the studio has a tendency to either drag or fly by - usually dependent upon how kind inspiration is being. But, when he has genuine downtime, he often finds himself at a loss.

Man, unscheduled, unallocated time can really drag. He'll find himself thinking up unnecessarily complicated errands, just for something to do.

When he's busy, he craves nothing more than the freedom that comes with being the master of his own destiny and answering to no one. But when he's granted that, he gets itchy feet and often ends up counting down the days until he'll be thrown back into it all again.

And he notices the difference all the more, when Eloise's schedule can't be flexible to sync with his. Needless to say, downtime would be way more fun together.

When she resumed filming Killing Eve in late July, he split his time between Holmes Chapel and London, trying to make the most of her rare days off from shooting, or else just snatching time when she'd return home tired, with her mind already on what the next day on set would entail.

After dutifully shuttling back up and down the M6 for a few weeks, he headed west again - all the way to Cabo San Lucas for James' birthday celebrations. Disappointingly, she couldn't manage to find a way to join them, not even for a long weekend.

The distance proved hard again... Really hard.

>

When he returned to Los Angeles in late August, Harry was itching to get back to work. Almost immediately, he was heading back and forth to Malibu, for regular studio sessions at Shangri-La.

An esteemed, mellow and scraggly-bearded producer, Rick Rubin's legendary facility has pulled greatness from the likes of Bob Dylan, Kanye, Frank Ocean, and even Adele and Ed too. Even if they're in a studio and not in Bob's revered vintage tour bus parked in the gardens, Harry's all for tapping any inspiration from the hallowed walls.

They struck gold, literally, within their first couple of days, writing Golden, and, in the process, putting a stake in the ground for the kind of sound they were aiming for.

After laying down Fine Line, which he'd penned back in January, they also finished up Watermelon Sugar, which they'd started writing on the road in Europe, way back in November 2017.

>

Eloise has been back in LA for just a few days now, having flown straight to him as soon as she wrapped the final block of filming.

The month apart has undoubtedly worn them both down, and it's taken a couple of days to try to get back into each other's groove.

The vibes were brewing even before she arrived, thanks to a couple of spats over FaceTime about him dabbling with mushrooms, and some other shit, with the guys in the studio.

She'd say she wasn't being overly principled about it, but had just been shocked to catch him looking so dishevelled and out of it. Hell, he'd almost bitten his damn tongue off jumping out a window last week. The stitches haven't quite yet dissolved, but she's hoping a long overdue proper kiss is all they need to re-right their orbit.

After seven long weeks, juggling filming and accents and script edits again, she's feeling shattered, and, honestly, a bit disappointed he couldn't clear a few days for her.

Recording is more nebulous than a punishing and highly regimented touring or promotional schedule, but, apparently, they're in the zone and hitting their stride.

Well, at least someone, something, is.

She needs a break from Villanelle for a bit before putting pen to paper to start writing season three, and the few other projects she's been in talks for, haven't quite come to fruition just yet.

So, after just a few days trying to occupy herself with sunbathing and lunching and hanging out with Mer and Ruby, and Rosie and Jack, Eloise is already starting to feel a little antsy.

>

When he returned home just before 9pm last night, only to promptly crash out on the sofa, she'd been miffed.

Failing to wake him, she left him downstairs to sleep it off.

He wakes her up the next morning, swearing as he stumbles shoulder-first into the doorway of their ensuite bathroom whilst trying to wrestle his way out of his t-shirt.

When he then airily admits from the depths of the walk-in closet that he's heading straight back to the studio, she storms downstairs, in urgent need of caffeine.

>

Just hearing his Vans-clad feet squeak as he skips down the stairs, gaily whistling a few bars of a melody, she bristles.

When he obliviously drops a kiss to her temple and plants a hand on her hip as he reaches past her to the fridge for a bottle of water, she stiffens.

With a double-take, he does at least take heed of the warning roll of her eyes.

Stepping aside, he straight-arms the marble island and hangs his head, bracing himself for the inevitable tongue lashing for whatever he's done now. When she scoffs as he breathes out a long sigh, he bristles too. So now he can't even breathe?

"What?", he says shortly, braving a look up at her.

"Seriously?", she gapes.

"Yeah... What have I done now?".

Uh oh. Full-on red mist approaching. She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Precisely fuck all...", she scoffs. "And that's the point!", she throws over her shoulder as she takes her coffee and heads towards the balcony door, tugging discretely at the very short hem of the once oversized but now shrunken t-shirt she regrets having slept in last night. Nothing like trying to maintain the upper hand in an argument whilst braless and trying not to flash your bits. Fuck's sake.

Swearing under her breath, struggling with the tricksy lock of the balcony doors one-handed, she freezes as he steps behind her and reaches a hand either side of her waist to flick it easily. Smart arse.

When he un-cages her and steps aside to tug the doors open, she pivots neatly and stalks back to the kitchen.

"Oh, come on!", he groans. "Can't you just clue me in on whatever you're pissy about?".

"Ooh, are you're sure you've got the time?". Her sarcasm's lost on him as he checks his watch and shrugs, making her white-knuckle the edge of the marble island she's standing back behind.

Striding closer to perch on a barstool, he stretches his arms out along the cool marble and turns his palms up. Eyebrows raised in confusion, he stretches it out, "So...".

Then drumming his fingers against the cool marble? Red rag, Harry. Red rag.

She huffs. "Firstly, I'm not being pissy... I've barely seen you since I got back, and, yeah, I'm a bit disappointed that it looks like I won't get to today either".

"And secondly?", he says flatly.

Wow, he's got balls.

Hearing her ragged intake of breath, he holds his hands up. "Just want to know the charges against me...", he can't help but smirk.

"Don't try and be cute, Harry", she fires back flatly, eyeing him intently. "I'm really not in the fucking mood. I'm tired, and stressed, and you're the one who said you wanted to talk...".

"Okay", he bites. "Well, that's not fair... I'm working! I've committed to studio time and have the guys on the clock. I can't drop everything because you've swanned back into town and now have some downtime! I had to amuse myself while you were filming...".

Oof, okay. She gapes at him, squinting her eyes trying to work out if he's intentionally pushing her buttons or genuinely missing the point.

"And, I have been here! I've seen you every day", he cuts back in, just as she opens her mouth to reply.

Another smug little smirk sets her off. "Been here? Yeah, between stumbling in late and skipping off early, you've monged around or passed out on the sofa or barely given me more than grunts in lieu of conversation... That's real quality time! Thanks, babe".

He goes to open his mouth again, but she cuts him off this time, finding her flow. "I get that you have work commitments, I absolutely do. But I resent you wasting what precious little time you then can spare for me, especially when it's coming down or wound up and feeling anxious as a result".

"Oh, here we go! There it is...", he sneers. "Mushrooms are only recreational!".

"Yeah, tell that to the half of your tongue you almost bit off last week!", she laughs coldly. "And they're Class-A, actually...", she adds with a shake of her head. "Look, I get all the talk of the 'notoriously difficult second album', and understand you'll be feeling the pressure-".

"Oh, spare me the psychoanalysis", he groans flatly, scowling as he tugs a hand through his hair.

"I don't get it, H", she drops her hands in defeat. "I just don't get it... What is it? What's shifted so much? We were in such a great place after the tour, so why does this feel like this?", she asks honestly, gesturing between them, genuinely confused.

He lets out a long sigh and rubs his hand down over his face, shoulders drooping. "I don't know", he says lowly, dejectedly, "I just don't know". Braving a look up at her, he softens at her puzzled frown, going with honesty, vulnerability.

"Maybe I need it?", he admits in a softer voice. "An edge. It can help uncover things that feel just out of reach, like scratching beneath the surface".

"I don't-", she stutters, shaking her head in disbelief. "But, Harry, you're the most interesting and creative person I know!".

It's his turn to scoff, albeit playfully. "I think you're biased... I go down on you!", he attempts some levity, then belatedly reads the room and tries again after another long sigh. "Well, maybe I need to be a bit more interesting and less vanilla?", he mumbles, looking back down, tracing his index finger along patterns in the marble.

"That's total bullshit!", she exclaims, tugging at the roots of her hair again in frustration. "God, the irony... That has to be the most vanilla thing you've ever said".

"Maybe I need to chill out a bit?".

"Oh, my God, you're so relaxed, you're practically fucking horizontal, H! It's that shit that fucks people up and messes with their minds".

"It's nothing! Having a giggle with your mates? Feeling euphoric and energised and excited? I'm not exactly shooting up heroin, El. Calm down!".

Belatedly remembering a 'calm down' is never a good tactic, and sensing she's at risk of tying him up in knots here, he changes tack.

"This is so hypocritical, anyway... Precious time together?", he sneers meanly. "You're the one without any time for me! I'm working, but at least I'm here... You're never fucking here. It's you that doesn't have time for us".

"Now, that isn't fair!", she snaps back. "I literally got on the first plane I could. I came straight here, straight home to you", she shakes her head, really pissed off. "And, don't bloody forget I was with you on tour for two full months!".

She forces herself to take a deep breath. "Look, I know we talked about trying to go no more than two weeks apart, but you know I'm at the mercy of shoot schedules. They don't get planned as far in advance as tours, and then they shift around anyway... But I'm trying here, I really am", she implores.

Silently, he leans back on the barstool, studying her through his lashes.

Catching the time on the oven clock, she gives up. "Well a slanging match isn't exactly a good use of precious time either, is it?", she shrugs. "Go; don't keep them waiting".

Grabbing her mug, she heads back upstairs, dragging her feet dejectedly.

>  
>

20th September 2018

Harry promptly stormed out, feeling frustrated.

Jumping in the Audi towards the Pacific Coast Highway, he put the as-yet unmastered Golden on repeat, hoping it would calm him down and improve his mood.

She wasn't wrong, but he just couldn't stop himself lashing out.

He's been feeling anxious lately, and it's made those niggling worries about losing her re-surface again. As her star shines ever brighter, he'll have to work harder than ever to fight for her attention.

And work's already feeling like, well, hard work.

They're not kidding about the pressure that comes with a second album. And some critics said he played his debut a little too safe, so he needs to find the courage to take some risks.

>

Still in a black mood, under Tom's questionable influence, he succumbed to ready temptation and quickly popped a few shrooms.

It's always a trip. The throbbing headache as they take effect melts into a blur of glowing colours and mounting psychedelic euphoria, to, essentially, a mess of uncontrollable giggles and fully hysterical laughter. The subsequent all-consuming sense of awe at the people and things around him, in a studio with interesting instruments and musical geniuses aplenty, is an absolute riot.

But it's the anxiety and paranoia kicking in as he comes down that's always the real bitch.

Although that could have been mixing them with Jeff Bhasker's seriously strong weed. They'd all been egging each other on - Mitch and Tyler too - but, in hindsight, that was a stupid idea, and had things getting hazy. And he definitely regretted the vat of margarita mix he then insisted on knocking up whilst dancing around in the pink work-topped studio kitchen. Oof.

>

Whichever way, his old friend anxiety is at her most intense when he remembers how to read the clock, and promptly almost shits himself.

In the zone and getting somewhere interesting on She, a new track, morning melted into afternoon, into evening, into the early hours, and then morning, and afternoon again. Oops.

Still feeling the effects a little, but finally okay to drive home, he doesn't think he got too emo or fixated on his spat with Eloise, but it's all more than a bit hazy, so he can't be entirely sure.

But one thing he is certain of? Eloise is likely to castrate him over this.

>

Sinking into the luxurious and soothing calm of his Audi, Harry blasts the air conditioning and drums against the steering wheel, impatiently waiting for the dead battery of his phone to get some juice.

With his arm and neck bent awkwardly, thanks to the short charging cable, as soon as the glowing apple icon morphs into his lock screen photo of her, he groans seeing it immediately flood with notifications.

Ignoring all his other missed calls and messages - including one from his LA home security company, figuring Eloise must have accidentally tripped the alarm again - he thumbed straight to hers.

A bunch of missed calls. An escalating string of texts - from regretful to apologetic to curious to needy to nagging to concerned to worried to angry. She presumed he was giving her the silent treatment and said she'd wait him out. And, finally, a sad and disappointed voicemail, just two words. 'Fuck, Harry...', she'd broken off dejectedly with a sob.

The hairs on the back of his neck instantly stand on end at the tone of her voice. Hesitant, and, was that a bit... Scared?

Swallowing his nerves, he dials her back immediately, and then again, but she sends him to voicemail before evidently turning off her phone entirely. Fair dues.

Throwing his phone down in the cupholder, he downs half a bottle of slightly stale and lukewarm water, then tears straight out of the parking lot.

>

Arriving back to the house, he's in a mood - still coming down, and feeling guilty and regretful.

As he pulls through his gate, he's taken aback to see three cars on the drive - Ben's Range Rover, alongside two sedans he doesn't recognise.

Slipping through the front door, he pauses, surprised that it seems so quiet, given all the cars.

Before he can call out, he catches movement in the kitchen as Mer spins off a barstool and dashes over to him in the foyer.

Her face appears confused and relieved and etched with worry, but she throws her arms around him. Gasping, she immediately takes a step back, features pulled into furious disbelief. "What the fuck, Harry? You stink! What have you been playing at? Where have you been?", she scolds, then immediately cuts him off anyway. "Fucking hell, you can't just disappear like that!".

"It was one night! Not even two full days...", he tries to defend himself, confused at the severity of her reaction. He's been held to account and scheduled to within an inch of his life since he was sixteen, and, sometimes, he's just so fucking sick of it.

"We figured you were with Tom, Mitch and Tyler when no one could reach all of you...", she continues.

"Fucking hell, alright, Mer!", he sasses back. "Well, what was so important? Where is everyone? Whose cars are out front?".

"Oh, shit...", she gasps. "You don't even know? It's Magnus", she whispers.

He frowns in confusion. "Who's Magnus? Is El here? Where's Ben? Where's Ruby?", he asks distractedly, craning his neck to look past the kitchen, trying to spot anyone them.

"They're meeting with some guys from the Swedish Embassy. They're out on the deck", she clues him in.

After a double-take, even more confused, he steps around her, but she grabs his arm before he can head over to them. "No way, absolutely not! Harry, get in the shower first, sober up or come down or whatever the fuck you need to do, but pull yourself together and quickly... You cannot wade in like this", she says firmly.

She's petite, but, God, can she be intimidating.

"Lolly is strung out enough already; she'll hit the fucking roof... And Ben and Crispin are in no mood to be messed with either-".

"Her Dad? He's here?", he gapes, rubbing at his neck. "Fucking hell, what's going on? Who's this Magnus?".

"I'll fill you in on what I know...", she sighs, "But, please, shower first. You reek".

>

Leaning against the marble island, with his still-damp hair dripping on to his white t-shirt and rumpled denim shorts, Harry shakes his head in disbelief.

He thought he'd sobered up, but now he's not so sure. If Mer's face wasn't so deadly serious, he'd be convinced he's still tripping...

A stalker?

Elin, attacked and raped back in the early 80s?

Then a subsequent attempt made on Eloise at just fifteen, but thwarted by Ben?

So that's how he messed up his shoulder and had to give up rugby?

But she'd never said a word?

He'd never mentioned it either.

They both startle as the balcony door slides open with a whoosh. "Lolly, stop!", Crispin calls out in a stern tone. "We're not done, Eloise".

She lets him pull her around before wrenching her arm out of his grip. "I'm not going anywhere! He asked to see my phone, so I'm getting it, okay? I'll be right back, but I just need a damn second, alright?".

As her Dad holds his hands up and relents, she spins back, stopping in her tracks when she spots Harry.

He can read the emotions fleeting over her glass face. Shock, surprise, relief, confusion, disappointment, anger... It's that it settles blank that worries him; just a minuscule shake of her head and a lengthy exhale.

When he swiftly intersects her path to the stairs, she stops in her tracks.

"El-?".

She cuts him off, finally looking up, blazing eyes darting over his face. "Are you okay? Is everyone okay?", she asks urgently.

"What? Yes. But, what-?".

"Okay, then", she cuts him off, nodding, but takes a step back as he reaches for her.

Bristling, she shrugs him off, "Just don't... Okay? I can't-".

Stepping around him, she raises her voice when he reaches for her again. "Stop, don't touch me! God, can everyone leave me alone for just a fucking minute?".

Speechless, he reels around to face Mer and Crispin as she storms upstairs.

Crispin levels him, stepping closer. "Look, I don't know where you've been or what you've been up to. That's for you to square away with her...", he sighs. "But don't take that to heart... This is a lot for her. For all of us", he says glumly, raking a hand over his face.

With a squeeze to Harry's shoulder, he heads back outside.

>

When Eloise stomps back down and straight out to the balcony without meeting his eye, Harry and Mer move through to the living room. They can't help but watch through the closed glass doors spanning the width of the balcony, trying to get a read their body language.

Crispin's doing most of the talking. Ben's leaning against the balustrade, arms crossed, frowning and biting his lip. And Eloise is perched on the edge of the sofa, knees jigging up and down, pulling her hands through her hair.

As the four men gather their things and Crispin leads them inside, Eloise jumps up and starts pacing.

Distracted with concern for her, Harry leaps to his feet as Crispin heads over and introduces them to him. He blanches at receiving a card, seeing it emblazoned with the stamp of the Department of Homeland Security. What the fuck?

The mousy looking guy with the limp handshake has a surprisingly deep and commanding voice. "We'll be in touch to set up a meeting, but if you have any questions call me".

Harry frowns, "I have a million questions...", he looks to Crispin for help.

Clamping a hand on Harry's shoulder, he addresses the men again. "I'll update him and we'll look into security and then I'll sort a meeting in a couple of days. Thank you, gentleman. Please keep us posted".

After shaking hands again, Harry turns back to the balcony as Crispin sees the men out. He's shocked to see Ben shouting at Eloise through the glass doors to the balcony.

Stepping hesitantly closer, Mer follows him as he reaches to slide open the ajar door.

Eloise explodes. "Well, sorry if the word for fucking rape isn't in my Swedish vocabulary! It doesn't come up that often", she hisses.

"You should have fucking said something!".

"I did, as soon as I realised... Why do you think we're here?".

"You two...", Crispin warns lowly, shepherding Mer and Harry outside.

Impressively, it has Ben and Eloise instantly backing down and dropping heavily on to the sofas.

There's an awkward silence.

Eloise stubbornly refuses to look up at Harry.

"Do you two need a minute?", Crispin sighs.

"No", she scoffs.

"Yes", he says imploringly, at the same time.

With a huff, she stands and brushes past him. "Come on, then", she heads inside, toward the office.

>

Harry bursts into questions before the door shuts behind him. "Stalker? Rape? El, what the hell has been going on?". The panic and worry is evident in the strained tone of his voice.

Perching against the edge of his desk, fiddling with the hem of her chambray sundress, she looks out the window to the greenery of the palm trees beyond. "You weren't here... You wouldn't know", she says flatly, crossing her arms.

He swallows the impulse to groan, knowing he needs to tread very, very carefully. "This has obviously gone on for more than two days...", he says gently.

"I've been terrified since I got that phone call, but you weren't here...".

"Fuck, when? How long has this been going on? How did he get your number?", Harry feels immediately sick with worry. Catching the tell-tale wobble of her chin only makes it worse.

He steps cautiously closer, reaching out slowly enough to be able to tell if it's unwelcome.

As his palms rub soothingly up and down her arms, she closes her eyes and drops her hands to the edge of the desk. When she finally looks up at him, eyes wide and watery, he knows she'll relent.

"Baby, I'm so, so sorry", he reaches up to smooth a strand of hair over her shoulder. "I will never forgive myself that I was off writing fucking songs high on fucking mushrooms when you needed me, all just because you called me out on my shit... That's done, okay? No more, I promise", he says, softly but emphatically. "I'm not going anywhere, El. But you have to clue me in, so I can help... Please?".

>

Eyeing Eloise closely as she pulls herself up and twists around, neatly folding to sit cross-legged, Harry slowly rounds the desk and eases himself down into the chair in front of her.

With her hands in her lap, fingers worrying the hem of her dress, a soft frown mars her brow as she gnaws her bottom lip between her teeth, staring, unblinking, over his head.

After another few deep and shaky breaths, he scoots his chair forward slightly. Looking up at her, he slides his fingers over hers, squeezing them gently. "It's just me, baby... You can tell me anything", he whispers, encouragingly.

From looking down at their entwined hands, she squeezes him back and bends to drop a kiss to the back of his palm, before finally meeting his eye."I'm not sure where to start...", she shrugs.

>

With his thumb raking soothingly over hers, providing just enough grounding contact, she trains her gaze back to the palm trees swaying in the breeze outside the window, and finally begins to talk.

Magnus had been at the boys' school affiliated with her mum's, back in Stockholm in the late 70s. A year below, he was a bit weird and something of a loner, and had been teased mercilessly for having a huge unrequited crush on her.

Barely even knowing him, she soon forgot about him entirely. But, when she returned for a friend's engagement party, the summer after graduating from university in London, he'd been upset when she didn't recognise him. Apparently, his obsession had shifted from her to weightlifting in the intervening years. Their old school friends hadn't let her faux pas slip, and crowed over the beautiful model, who was already taking the London social scene by storm, putting the school's loser firmly back in his place.

Furious, he'd shown up at her parent's house the next afternoon, uninvited and unannounced, ranting and raving about how she had ruined his life and how much he still loved her. She'd been home alone. And he hadn't listed when she'd said no. And didn't relent when she tried to fight back.

After a horrific ordeal, her eventual testimony helped convict him, and, in the process, linked him to attacks on several women during his time at university in Malmö.

She'd eventually returned to London, finding comfort in Crispin, who she'd been friends with for a couple of years but had only recently started dating.

It never made the UK press, and neither she nor Crispin had ever mentioned it to Eloise or her brothers.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, back in Spring 2008, at their old house in Barnes, Eloise had been squabbling with Ben over the TV remote. The rest of the family was out at some rugby club end of season do.

He was nursing a hangover, having been out for a final boozy night with his old school friends, soon due to head back to university for his final term. She was a snarky fifteen year old, intent on making him suffer, singing along obnoxiously loudly to the music channels.

After a quick stand-off, only resolved with his promise to make her a cup of tea, she'd dragged herself off the sofa, grumbling all the way to the front door.

What happened next seemed to happen in warp speed and slow motion, all at the same time.

She'd been laughing in Ben's direction as she opened the door, turning belatedly, taken aback to find an intimidating, middle-aged man, staring intensely.

Clocking his heavily accented English as he'd asked for Elin, Eloise explained her parents were out but she could take a message and have her call him. He'd just stood there, awkwardly gaping at her, looking her over. Still super slim from all her recent ballet, she stood her ground, but uneasily tugged her shrunken t-shirt down over her gym shorts, uncomfortable at the weight of his gaze. When he just kept staring, she sassed an "Okay then, goodbye" in Swedish and made to close the door.

Then everything happened too quickly. The meaty hand throwing the door back open, then grasping both her arms as he shoved her backwards. The smack of her back into the door to the basement. The vice-like grip around her neck, constricting her throat. His other hand roaming all over her as he pressed himself sickeningly against her. Staggering through from the lounge, hearing the commotion and the muffled sounds of her panicked, silent struggle, Ben's shocked shout of "El-!". The resulting double-take and sickening grin, delighted at the similarity of their names as well as their looks.

Intently focused on her, he hadn't noticed Ben grab the cricket bat perched in the corner, but definitely felt the impact as it came down heavily, high across his shoulders. In fury, he'd cracked Eloise's head violently against the door, then turned on Ben.

She'd collapsed in a crumpled heap, and only came to at the panicked shouts of their returning family; Elin bent over her, Crispin huddled over Ben. The trail of blood on the front path indicated Magnus had fled.

Both ended up in hospital. Her in an MRI scanner and then under observation for a nasty concussion, with a watchful eye on her bruised neck and throat. Poor Ben had needed surgery on his shoulder to repair the damage after their vicious fight.

They returned home a couple of days later, battered and bruised, but only after a number of interviews with the police and a sketch artist.

Only then did it start to sink in. What could have happened if Ben hadn't been there to fight him off. That he was still out there and knew where they lived. It was an uneasy time for all of them.

Just a week or so later, he'd been caught. Another attack, another woman. And there were more back in Sweden. Their testimonies helped convict him. By all accounts, she'd been remarkably lucky to get off so lightly - thanks entirely, to Ben.

With a ragged sigh and an audible swallow, Eloise shrugs. That was it.

>

"But you never said a thing? How can you possibly be so calm about it?", Harry gapes at her, feeling physically sick and thoroughly unsettled at her chillingly calm recount.

"Oh, that first week was terrifying. I was scared of my own shadow", she admits. "But then it was kind of all dealt with so quickly", she frowns. "Dad made us talk to a therapist... It really helped, actually. I understood what happened and why, and something of his motivations and impulses. I understood what I felt and why... I hadn't been back from New York for long, and talking about all that helped too... Oh, and Dad signed me up for self-defence classes. Although, they'd prove more helpful on smothering, over-protective brothers than anything else", she chuckles softly.

Squeezing Harry's hands again, she looks back up. "And then a lot changed in a short space of time... We moved house, to Richmond Park, for more privacy and better security. Ben graduated, just as Lucas left for university. I finally started a new school, up at Stowe... I'd still swear blind that what went down there was more about hormones than any trauma", she shakes her head ruefully. "I never felt like a victim. I felt lucky, that I avoided something much worse, when so many other people didn't. So I just tried to put my head down and focus on moving on... And he was supposed to be locked up, in another country, for a very long time... So, that was that", she shrugs.

Clearing his throat, Harry winces. "Until it wasn't... So what happened? When did he make contact again?".

"Well, apparently he's out again, and evidently still a bit obsessive!", she says drily, rubbing her neck.

"There had been a couple of odd letters, and calls made to the Killing Eve production office. But they blocked the number and we thought nothing of it... Then, a couple of weeks ago, Charles got a couple of weird emails and calls". Eloise starts rubbing her hands up her thighs, until he reaches out a hand over hers, squeezing gently.

Interlacing their fingers, she continues, voice a little strained. "Then, just a couple of days before wrapping, I got some weird texts to my mobile. Again, mostly nonsensical and in broken English. I thought it was just some crappy phishing scheme, so I blocked the number and forgot about it... Then I was spammed with a few more from different numbers. I blocked them too and figured maybe I should change my number".

"When I landed in LA, I turned my phone on... It was another new number; just my name and a question mark. I ignored it again, but then, three days ago, I got a string of texts from the same number. They were pretty garbled but could make out enough of the Swedish to feel a bit unsettled...".

Feeling antsy, she unfolds her legs and scoots to the edge of the desk, making him swivel around to follow her progress as she starts pacing in front of the window. "Then our fight threw me off kilter a bit, and I answered my phone without thinking. I hadn't been able to get through on your mobile, and it was a US number, so I figured maybe it was you, from the studio or something... But it was him. God, I recognised his voice immediately... It cut straight through me; ranting in exactly the same tone as he had before".

Seeing her physically shudder in recollection, Harry jumps up and pulls her tentatively into his arms.

As she melts into him, seeking comfort, her voice catches as she continues quietly. "I hung up and just sat there, reeling, totally paralysed for a few minutes. It was like everything just came flooding back... But then the fucking house alarm went off and, I swear to God, I almost shat myself. I was absolutely terrified. I grabbed one of your golf irons, sprinted upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I called Ben, and he called the police, and then he came in with them and found me, frozen in fear, sitting on the floor around the back of the bath".

"Oh, my God... Baby, I'm so sorry", Harry stutters, feeling sick with regret, that she was so scared, here, where she should feel nothing but safe and loved, and that he wasn't there for her, when she needed him most.

"And so what happened next, that led to those guys outside just now?", he prompts, still unclear on the turn of events, and what the status is right now.

"His convictions mean he shouldn't have been able to get into the US, but Interpol flagged it to the Swedish embassies. So Homeland Security got in touch via the police department that responded to Ben's 911 call... Dad had received a call too, and was already on his way, but hadn't wanted to worry us".

"Fuck...", he shakes his head again. "So what now?".

"I don't know", she frowns bleakly. "I'm hoping Dad took in a bit more from that meeting than I did, to be honest... Let's go and see". She takes a step back then holds out a hand for him.

Taking it in both of his, he pulls her back in, enveloping her in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Eloise... For all of that, and everything you and Ben and your mum went through, but mostly for not being here for you... But I'm here now and not going anywhere, I promise. We'll deal with this together, okay?".


	2. Part B

Adele, Don't You Remember

"When will I see you again? / You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said / No final kiss to seal anything / I had no idea of the state we were in".

4th February 2019

Things have been pretty hideous, for four hellish months now.

It's been twenty weeks, to the day, since he'd spoken to her.

Then, the last time he'd heard from her, had been two weeks after that. 8.10pm on the eighth of October, as it happened.

After reams of texts and missed calls and messages - all unanswered - that final, sobbing, broken, anguished, and confusion laden voicemail marked the final missive.

It had him promptly hurling his iPhone against the wall - distraught for sure, but mostly to avoid the impulse to call her straight back and try to console her, try to possibly explain.

That was just the first of three phones to have met a similar fate in the last four months. 

He knows it would have been fairer to them both if he blocked her number; to take away the temptation for her to keep trying, and for him the anguish of receiving it all.

But, if her final broken, hollow words in that voicemail were true, the perseverance paid off.

Those words still haunt him.

"...I'm done".

Now, at least he could rest slightly easier, knowing that she could reach him if ever she needed him. He'd always drop anything for her. He has to believe that.

But, four months on, it all still hurts. Unbearably so.

He can practically still see teasing flashes of it all, dancing behind his eyelids when he tries to fall asleep.

Those damning and salacious headlines were attention grabbing enough.

'Love rat'.

'Cheating scum'.

'Playboy'.

He'd been thoroughly vilified.

That the stories broke the morning of their third anniversary - well, her date for it, anyway - only made him feel all the more wretched.

He hadn't anticipated that; in his distraction, he hadn't put two and two together.

After waking up early, he'd taken his time to say his own silent goodbyes as she slept, before cowardly slinking off.

Throwing on some clothes and grabbing his hastily packed bag - hiding in wait in their closet - he loitered by the bedroom door, bestowing silent apologies as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Totally numb, in hindsight, he can't quite recall even getting in the car, let alone the subsequent drive.

But he certainly remembers the guilt he felt leaving.

Leaving her to wake up alone, to all that.

>

Hiding out alone at the Azoff's holiday home in Palm Springs, he'd ended up making himself physically sick.

But a few days wracked with fevered chills, unable to either keep anything down or stop crying, didn't feel nearly like punishment enough.

When he turned the corner a couple of days later, it transpired that nothing had yet calmed down.

He'd never heard his mum so furious.

And she then jumped straight on a plane and demanded he head back to LA to face her.

Ironically, she must have passed her on the freeway.

Jeff told him Eloise had shown up at his place, hammering on the door, shouting for him, then breaking down sobbing about how she didn't understand what had happened, what went wrong.

Then, after another couple of days of her blowing up his phone - processing from shock to confusion to disbelief to anger - Ben let him know, shortly, that she'd fled home.

Home home, to their parents' place in Richmond Park.

But the distance didn't help him feel any better.

Worse, if anything. Her empty sides of the wardrobe and ensuite, haphazardly ransacked as they were, suggested a worrying permanence.

>

In the dark about it all, Mitch and Tom were struggling to understand what had happened and how best to help.

They figured music might prove the distraction he needed, until he was ready to talk.

Tom swung by one day, and, having literally dragged Harry off the shower floor, helped channel his angst into writing Falling. Bam, done and dusted in just twenty minutes - leaning against the piano, wrapped in only a towel, laying his emotions bare.

Then, in need of a distraction, Harry's obsessive streak flared up, and he'd made it his mission to track down authentic dulcimers for a new track they'd penned called Canyon Moon. That was at least three days relatively well spent.

Eloise's final missive, a week later, was scathing fury melting into accepting heartbreak.

"After everything that has been going on, our relationship was just about the only thing keeping me afloat. But I'm sorry if that was too much of a burden on you... I guess the last three years must have meant more to me than they did to you? ...But the very worst part in all this, Harry, isn't that tramp or the fucking media or rabid fans; it isn't even what you did... It's that I never would have once pegged you for a fucking coward who runs away and won't even acknowledge the damage you've done. You arrogant son of a bitch, you've fucking wrecked me... But you obviously have no intention of talking to me, so this is it. Goodbye, I guess, I'm done".

See? Haunting.

>

To try to protect what was left of his sanity and strength of will, he had to get away from places that remind him of her.

It didn't prove easy.

Seeing so many reminders and traces of her around the house was killing him. And, while his songwriting team was in LA, with his blue mood, he was genuinely worried about the path he could go down if he started dabbling in shit again. And he'd promised her; never again.

He considered heading home to Holmes Chapel, but knew his mum would only nag him about her; and the recording studios nearby aren't really up to scratch.

He evidently couldn't face the Hampstead house, and when holing himself up in a hotel suite didn't help either, he realised he had to get away from London too. She was too close; the temptation too much.

He decamped to Real World, a recording studio complex in Bath, for just over a week, but the nearby M4 proved problematic.

On a couple of occasions, he found himself getting in the car and sneaking back towards Richmond Park, only to then come to his senses and sheepishly turn around again.

Temptation proved too strong, but he really needed to bunker down and make some headway on the album.

Impulsively, he headed east.

Way east.

>

He'd been in Japan intermittently from late-October to early February.

After a fairly bleak and unproductive initial few weeks, he promised himself he'd get his head back into work as soon as December rolled around, but then he'd been struggling with writer's block.

Mitch had sent him some music for a new track, and he'd penned the lyrics to that - To Be So Lonely, appropriately enough - but that was it. That's all he has to show for his time here so far.

Since late October. Yikes.

Jeff will soon be on his case, and Columbia out for his blood again.

Sure, his journal is littered with dark, nonsensical and incomplete scribblings, but they're too depressing to be worth sifting through, even just in the hope of panning for any tiny nuggets of gold.

His muse is evidently no where to be found.

Well, he knows exactly where she is - in southwest London, safely at her parents house, he hopes - but she wants nothing to do with him, that's for sure.

That final voicemail is all the reminder he needs.

"Goodbye, I guess, I'm done".

"...I guess, I'm done".

"...I'm done".

He still replays it on a loop when he's too many whiskeys or sakes or tequilas deep, or feeling lonely in a small twin bed that has somehow never felt wider.

>

Succumbing to temptation again, he returned back to London in mid-November on a whim, intent on heading straight to Richmond Park and trying to explain himself.

But he chickened out, again.

After spending a few days holed up in another hotel in central London - he still couldn't face the Hampstead house - he returned to Tokyo with his tail firmly between his legs.

Going off the grid, he focused on unwinding and trying to live as discretely and anonymously as possible, eschewing attention - well, to the best of his ability.

As much as he stood out - literally, a good few inches above the average height, and a white celebrity to boot - the highly polite, considered and respectful nature of the Japanese was massively appealing.

He ended up revelling in his solitude - oddly enough, for someone who'd been willing to sleep on friends' sofas for the best part of two years as an eighteen year old multimillionaire, just to avoid waking up alone in his echoey new home.

He'd had a quiet and glum Christmas and New Year's without her. Returning home to Holmes Chapel, he was withdrawn and surly and sullen.

Worried, his family promptly realised they'd need to tiptoe carefully around him and dance around the elephant in the room to avoid him scuttling off and back into the woodwork again.

But he did anyway, on the second of January; and fell quickly back into the same rhythms of his bizarre little life in Japan.

>

After going to ground too, for more obvious reasons, come January, she emerged briefly as well.

Her name had been in the press.

He'd know. His Google and social media search histories are pathetic.

After some print and televised - but never live - interviews for Killing Eve season two and her writing credit on Sex Education, which both premiered to much acclaim in early January, she was also a surprise and unannounced guest at the Golden Globes.

She'd cropped her hair - sitting in a blunt, choppy bob above her shoulders; bared in her strapless metallic Chanel couture gown. It was somehow show-stopping, yet understated, at the same time.

With her dad on her arm, and a couple of discrete bodyguards hovering close, she'd only braved a few interviews on the red carpet. Unsurprisingly, they each grilled her about their relationship and why Harry wasn't with her.

Evidently, that glass face hadn't fared terribly well under interrogation. It proved excruciating for him to watch.

Her subsequent triumph - winning Best Actress Television Drama and Best Television Drama - had been bittersweet.

Harry was beyond proud; elated for the recognition of her starring role and first screenplay. But also devastated, that he wasn't there as her biggest cheerleader; and, reading her glass-face and body language, knowing she wasn't quite in the mood to enjoy it either.

He couldn't help but notice she looked sad and tired, and too skinny again. He clocked her fake smile and notably short acceptance speeches too. "Wow! This is really overwhelming, my gosh... Just thank you - to everyone. My family, my friends... To anyone I've ever loved, this is for you".

He wasn't quite sure whether to read anything into that, but couldn't help but hope.

The next day, already suspicious of them suddenly dropping out of public life, and not having been seen together in public since the summer, the media re-hashed speculative stories about their break-up, but with a fresh angle after she was photographed chatting intently with Zayn, of all people, at an afterparty.

After scouring all the editorial photo sites, Harry only spotted a couple of photos of her after the ceremony at all. One clutching her two awards; and the other that weird one shot with Zayn.

However hard he tried, he couldn't seem to find a rational explanation for that one, but what right did he have to speculate?

>

With renewed focus and some fresh resolutions, Harry threw himself into work throughout January.

And, finally, the self-imposed heartbreak proved wonderful inspiration, and songs started spewing out of him.

Admittedly, they're raw and bleak, in wild contrast to the happiness-laden tracks they'd initially laid down in Malibu, right after the tour.

On better days, he knows that it's all for the best. He channels the feelings into his work. Or goes for long walks with his mate Fujii - a former pro wrestler and, incidentally, his new housemate - and his Shiba Inu dog, Bell. Or else calls his new therapist to talk things through; she's been a god-send, actually.

But, on bad days, his outlets prove less healthy. Either obsessively hitting the boxing ring, or else bars. He's on his third new phone already. And, needless to say, his Google and social searches remain humiliating.

He had a wobble and took a few steps back when Daisy Jones & The Six was released. Downloading it immediately, he fell asleep listening, if not watching it each night. He'd take any version of her; anything he could get.

He'd memorised all the video and audio clips of her stored on his iCloud already. And it made a change from all the Killing Eve, Baby Driver and War & Peace that he'd already had on repeat; but Eloise as Daisy definitely gives him some fucked up, trippy dreams.

Then, those unfounded rumours about Kiko Mizuhara, a Japanese model, definitely prompted some really bad days.

Shamefaced, he insisted it was only ever that - just a rumour; and one he's fairly sure probably came from her publicist. He, Fujii and new pal Kunichi Nomura - a radio host, DJ, TV presenter and everyman; alright, yes, essentially the Japanese version of Nick Grimshaw - innocently bumped into her and her friends at a bar, and stayed for a drink, just to be polite.

But a few tagged social media posts did the damage, and set the rumour mill ablaze, literally overnight.

He felt sick at the thought of Eloise seeing any of the coverage. Fuck, how low would her opinion of him get?

Immediately calling Jeff, he'd insisted they refute the story.

He had to do some damage control, if he was ever to be in with a fighting chance.

And, he'd admit, he hoped she'd notice the active rebuttals. That alone would have to mean something, surely?

>

Since Christmas, his mum and Mer had broadly stopped talking to him.

And he owes Gemma the mother of all apologies now, after she flew all the way to Tokyo ahead of his birthday, to check in after he'd ignored her daily calls and texts.

On edge after the Kiko stories, and embarrassed at the state she found him in, he'd blown up when she'd pushed and pushed, grilling him about Eloise.

They'd never had such a vicious fight, both stooping so low as to say awful, spiteful things.

After she'd flounced off home, he went on to spend his twenty fifth birthday entirely alone; finding himself drinking tea and re-reading Murakami's Wind Up Bird Chronicle in a little cafe on the outskirts of Tokyo.

It was, admittedly, a bit emo of him. But Eloise been the one to recommend the book to him originally - the first of many she'd pushed his way, inadvertently making him a right bookworm.

He'd never admitted it directly, but his appetite for knowledge and eagerness to learn over the last few years were entirely down to her. With her gift for writing, thirst for reading and, not to mention, that shiny Cambridge degree, he'd always been conscious of her outshining him. He's no slouch, and can hold his own with a wide variety of people, but he's conscious he left school at just sixteen. It was an incredible opportunity and one he'd never have turned down, but still...

Resolving that twenty five year old Harry will be more considered, more aware, more centred, he strives to take more ownership of his appetite to learn and grow... Far better than sixteen year old Harry ever could, that's for sure; even if he's still just as likely to have his mind wander over a pretty blonde with perky tits and a cracking pair of legs.

With a sigh, he found himself draining the last of his tea to take page sixty seven from the top again - for the third time.

But at least he made the most of his peaceful solitude, while it lasted.

>  
>

7th February 2018

After a worried call from Gemma and Anne, Jeff reached out to Harry a few days ago to say enough was enough.

He'd booked tickets and would be arriving soon, with Mitch and Tom in tow.

Still self-aware enough to feel some shame, Harry promptly booked a suite at the Aman hotel, to avoid them seeing the relative squalor in which he'd been holed up, in the spare room at Fujii's apartment.

>

Upon arriving at the plush hotel suite, it's safe to say that they're shocked at the state of Harry.

Hugely concerning; he looks fundamentally unhappy.

Despite looking buffer than ever after all his boxing, MMA and jui jitsu training, he looks haggard, and desperately in need of a shave and a good hair cut.

They're sad to see the sparkle wholly missing from those usually ethereal eyes, a frown permanently furrowing his brow, lips downturned and no hint of his usual ready laughter.

His reality proves worse than they had feared.

>

After some encouragement, early that evening, Harry finds himself tucked into a quiet corner of the hotel bar with the boys.

Sooner than he imagined, he caves and can't help but ask after Eloise.

They were all her friends too, and he hopes they've been there for her, if she's needed support.

He's not that surprised to hear Tom hasn't spoken to her. They were friendly enough, but never best buds.

It's worrying to hear that, despite his efforts, Jeff hasn't heard from directly since two weeks after everything went tits up. Glenne had tried too, and she'd at least received a response. But Jeff understands why she'd be distant.

Mitch admits he met her for a coffee, when she was back in LA for the Golden Globes. He'd seen the photos in the press and reached out again early the next morning. He'd had to.

Staying at Adele's, Eloise had begged that he and Sarah come to her, in a bid to keep things discrete. And, once she realised he was in the dark, she loosened up a bit, but it was awkward. "It was devastating, H... She should have been on top of the world after her wins, but she was like a shell of her former self".

That hits Harry like a kick in the teeth.

He admits it's all been a hell of a burden, weighing heavy on his conscience.

What has he done?

What about her in all this?

Was all this possibly some subconscious ploy to inspire his work?

He's disgusted with himself. She doesn't deserve it. And she's right, he is an arrogant son of a bitch.

If he barely recognises himself, what chance would she have?

"Man...", Mitch sighs, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "You have to clue us in, H. Please? This is killing you...".

So he does.

Harry finally offloads. And then some...

A/N: Ahhh... Please don't hate me! So, any theories...?! The next chapter, revealing some pieces of the puzzle, will be posted in the next day or two... Xx


	3. Part C

7th February 2019 (continued)

With his eyes fixated on the play of light through the ice cubes and rich amber of the Japanese whiskey he swirls in his crystal tumbler, Harry releases another deep breath, then begins, lowly.

"El had been, umm, going through something...", he rubs his neck distractedly, then clears his throat. "Back in September, she was targeted by a convicted stalker and, well, rapist. He's violent and has history with her family. It was all pretty horrific...", he winces. "When she was just fifteen, he tried to attack her too. And if it wasn't for Ben, well...", he trails off.

Jeff, Mitch and Tom sit across from him, elbows braced on their knees and leaning forward over the low table between them, listening intently.

Cutting his intense green eyes away from his glass and back up, he takes the plunge and finally admits it. "Well, I couldn't, wouldn't-... I just couldn't risk putting her in any more danger".

Starting to put two and two together - he thinks - Jeff gasps, cutting him off. "H, there had to have been another way? Surely-".

"No", Harry cuts him back off, green eyes flashing as he shakes his head, vehemently. He's still adamant; it's just about the only thing he is still sure off.

Catching Mitch and Tom's confused looks between the pair of them, Harry sighs again, rubbing his hands over his face and then up into his hair.

After another long sip of his whiskey, he quickly checks that no one else is in ear shot, then, crossing an ankle over his knee, leans forward and starts clueing them in; finally getting it all off his chest...

>  
>

[flashback, via Harry's recount]

20th September 2018

After heading back to the balcony hand in hand, with Harry clued in, if not quite any the wiser, they all talk until the sun goes down.

Later, after lengthy discussions with Crispin, and loose plans made and enquiries issued to his security agency, Harry has a frank discussion with Ben; about his version of events from that afternoon ten years before.

He ends up taking it all out on his punching bag, sans gloves.

When heightened emotions give way to physical exhaustion, finally calling it a night, they and Crispin head up to bed, soon after Ben and Mer head home to relieve their nanny.

>  
>

[flashback, via Harry's recount]

21st September 2018

Having only slept fitfully, and then awoken from dreams he was thankful he couldn't quite recall, Harry has been staring at Eloise for the last hour or so.

With her left arm draped over his chest and hand tucked under his waist, she's curled up tightly against his side. Swamped in his old t-shirt, rucked up around her hips, her bare legs are tangled around his. Features soft and relaxed, bar the gentle movement of her eyelids as she dreams, he's struck by how young and innocent she looks.

Lying there, stock still, he feels a war of conflicting emotions simmering within. Overcome with the depth of his love for her, he's still feeling ashamed of his behaviour over the last couple of days. He can't fathom how she must be feeling, and how hurtful his inadvertent abandonment must have been in her time of need.

Eyeing his red and grazed knuckles, as his hand moves gently up and down her arm laid across his chest, he can't help but shiver as a wash of warring instincts rolls over him. His primal need to protect Eloise, clashing with an animalistic desire to inflict real pain on Magnus.

The physical jolt subsides into a sobering realisation.

>

Eventually, painstakingly, Harry slips from the safe cocoon of their bed, careful not to wake her.

Padding downstairs, knowing he'll be even more reliant on caffeine to get through the day than usual, he's surprised to find a pot already freshly brewed.

Seeing the door ajar, he finds Crispin out on the balcony sofa, deep in thought in the pale early morning light.

Seeking comfort, he wraps his hands around his cup of coffee, ragged knuckles pulling taut, and they have a heart to heart.

About the precautions they'll needed to take, and how their fame and media interest heightens the level of risk.

Harry promises he's willing to do anything to keep her safe and give her as much peace of mind as possible.

He gently probes about exactly what Eloise went through at fifteen, and how she really fared in the aftermath.

Trying his luck, and desperate to understand, he can't help but cautiously ask about Elin too; how she'd reacted to the latest developments, and to that initial attempt on Eloise.

He's shocked when Crispin really opens up.

About how Elin's ordeal fundamentally changed her.

Her way of coping had been to withdraw, little by little; dulling her sparkle, to eschew unwanted attention.

He watched her build herself back up over time, but with impenetrable walls. And he understands it was her way of coping, but never struggles with it more than when that detachment is directed at Eloise. It wounds him, seeing the hurt flash over her face at every rebuttal. He's always tried to compensate, but it never feels like enough - not like she deserves.

But Elin has always remained a little more open with Crispin, behind closed doors; and when he sees those rare and precious glimpses of the woman he fell in love with, all those years before, it makes it all worthwhile.

Apparently, the Elin he first met and fell for, before Magnus, was actually remarkably like Eloise is today - warm, funny, vivacious, magnetic. He smiles wistfully, explaining that she's always been like that, even since she was tiny. 

However, as Eloise grew more and more like Elin - well, how she used to be - it must have felt like a glaring reminder every time she looked at her? Seeing what was taken away from her. Where everyone else sees charm, brains and beauty in Eloise, he figures Elin has always predominantly seen risk, risk and more risk.

It's odd; she always pushed Eloise to do well, in everything, really - to prove herself and her worth. But it was only ever Elin's elusive approval that he suspects she always worked so hard for.

But, ultimately, Elin has always just wanted Eloise to be tougher than she felt she was, back in the day.

They always knew that Crispin's renown and then her brothers' profiles heightened the risk. And that fear and her detachment only manifested more strongly over the years, as Eloise's own star has risen.

Coming back to Harry's question, Crispin speaks of Elin's reaction, or outward lack thereof, after the attempt on Eloise, and how their relationship only became more strained. He reckons Elin was crippled with a sense of guilt, but just a little too proud and damaged to admit it.

If nothing else, he's eternally grateful that Eloise had been more receptive to therapy than her mum ever had.

But, he admits he's terrified... Of what it could do to Eloise, and what the fallout could do to Elin too. It's unthinkable.

>

After a few minutes' weighty silence, Crispin redirects his dark gaze, from looking out over the view of LA, back to Harry, and admits he said more than he intended to. He never wants to betray Elin's confidence, but it feels good to offload a bit. And Eloise is right; Harry is a good listener.

He hopes he hasn't over-stepped, but he needs Harry to understand exactly what's at stake.

He definitely does.

Crispin listens just as attentively when Harry has just a few things to say in return.

Harrowing enough to hear, the haunted look on Crispin's face as he bared his soul was even worse to behold.

Harry knew, immediately, exactly what he had to do...

>  
>

7th February 2019 (continued)

"Well, what did you have to do?", Mitch asks softly, with rapt attention, perched on the edge of his seat.

"I did what I had to do to protect her", Harry replies earnestly. He needs them to understand, "Being with me made her a sitting duck".

"H, come on, what did you do? Just admit it", Tom implores.

Catching the resigned, disapproving tone in his voice, Harry's eyes dart from him to Mitch, and it suddenly dawns on him what they must think of him. What everyone must think of him.

His tone turns a little frantic, with words starting to come unnaturally fast. "Being with me would have made it easier for Magnus. My every fucking move is tracked and published by paps or fans. He could literally just Google my home addresses, and I'm sure he did...", he frowns, pulling at his lip before he continues lowly. "Waiting for them to catch him, she could only hide out safely, if she wasn't with me".

Seeing the penny start to drop for the guys, he soldiers on, keen to finally get it all out.

"Her Dad agreed... And Ben too, after some convincing".

"Agreed with what, exactly?", Mitch prompts.

>  
>

[flashback, via Harry's recount]

21st September 2018 (continued)

Later that day, decision made, he sneaks down to the garage, for some privacy.

Sitting astride his bike and buffing the chrome with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he brings his phone to his ear and tries to calm himself, syncing his breathing to the steady dial tone.

Sucking in a breath, he clears his throat and jumps straight in, before he can lose his nerve. "Jeff, I need you to sort something for me... It's the most important thing I've ever asked of you. Don't challenge it or fight me on it. I just need you to do it, okay? Please", he implored.

His deadly serious tone is enough to quell Jeff's sarcasm-laden gut reaction. After a beat, he asks quietly, urgently, "H, are you in trouble? Are you being blackmailed? Sniff twice, or something, if you are".

Harry breathes out slowly. "No. I'm not fucking around, Jeffrey", he says pointedly. "I'm not sure I've ever thought more clearly, actually... Please, I just need you to sort it".

"Well, what do you need?".

Jeff really wishes he hadn't asked.

"I need you to arrange a pap walk... And, umm, a thirsty model or actress or someone, anyone, who wants some attention but will sign an NDA...". He talks over Jeff when he tries to interject. "I am deadly serious here. I know what I'm asking for. And it needs to be done before the end of this weekend, before I lose my nerve... Please, Jeff? Don't ask me anything else, okay? I just need you to trust me on this".

And that's all he tells him.

No context, no explanation; just an instruction.

>  
>

7th February 2019 (continued)

Jeff now looks at him in disbelief, eyes darting frantically over his pinched features.

"But, I-", he stutters. "I thought you guys had a fight? Or, I don't know, maybe that you were going to some really desperate lengths to get some inspiration for the album? Maybe even that she cheated-".

"No", Harry cuts him off, flatly. "No one cheated", he adds, adamantly. Clocking their frowns, it dawns on him.

"Oh, shit! God, no! My hand never really touched her thigh. And we didn't actually kiss. With my back to the camera, you couldn't see the tears fucking streaming down my cheeks... I swear, I just held her hand, walking to the car; just for as long as I had to, just to make it look real". Her darts his eyes between them, before rolling them skyward. "Then I fucking ran away like a little bitch, trying to escape the fall out".

If only there was anything to crack a smile over, he knows he'd find their faces amusing.

It's only later, that he'll come to wonder what it means that three of his very best mates thought he could have behaved so despicably.

But he's blindsided them. They had no idea.

And they're not the only ones.

Other than Crispin and Ben, and possibly Mer - he's not entirely sure about her - no one else knows, not everything.

Like he'd only told Jeff just enough to get what he needed, he'd withheld an awful lot from his mum and sister too, fending them off with a vague "There's more to it, but please just leave it alone".

He couldn't betray Eloise or her mum's trust like that. And he couldn't trust anyone not to try to dissuade him, or, worse, risk them telling Eloise the truth.

>

After his bombshell, they all sit back; reeling, processing, shell shocked.

It's Mitch that seems to rouse first. "But why ghost her, H? That was cruel. Why didn't you just tell her? You've had downtime anyway, why couldn't you just go off grid together?". He just doesn't get it.

"I can never guarantee that I won't get spotted, anywhere. I couldn't take that risk", Harry shakes his head, still utterly convinced he made the right decision. The only decision.

"I get that was an impossible situation, H, but did you really stop and think this through?", Tom frowns at him. "Hell, she can be stubborn and hot-tempered, but-".

"You don't even know the half of it!", Harry chuckles ruefully; a wistful smile briefly lighting up his face.

"And you made that big of a decision without her? Without even telling her?", Jeff cuts in, with a wince. "What makes you think she'll ever forgive you? Ever be able to understand?", he questions softly.

"It was a gamble I had to take", Harry shrugs after a beat, swallowing thickly. "The alternative - that I could have inadvertently led him to her...", he tails off, shaking his head. "Choosing her safety over my happiness? No contest. Risking our relationship longer term? I couldn't not".

Falling silent, finally, he mulls it all over again. Tormenting himself, trying to weigh the odds, and trying to put himself in her shoes... What are their chances, really?

>

Harry zones back in again as he hears Tom mention the date. "...Now, exactly a week till Valentine's Day, and-".

"Fuck, really? Are you sure?", he bolts upright.

"Umm, yeah? Sorry", Tom grimaces, realising his mistake.

"So it's the seventh?", Harry checks.

"Yeah, man... Just about, still", Jeff looks at his watch.

Whoa.

A call from Ben last week had been the weirdest birthday present he'd ever received, but it legitimately made his day.

They got him.

After popping up around LA and London and then LA again, it was eventually a broken tail-light on a rental car that closed the net on Magnus.

And now he'll hopefully get extradited back to Sweden.

The hearing was scheduled for the sixth, in LA.

But they're sixteen hours behind Tokyo, and London is eight hours behind... Harry gets fuddled, trying to work out the maths.

Quickly taking another steadying sip of whiskey, he stretches out his leg and scrabbles to pull his phone from his back pocket.

Switching it on for the first time in a while, he sees a stream of notifications, news alerts and missed calls pop up. And then something he never thought he'd see again.

'One new voicemail: Eloise mobile'.

He drops the crystal tumbler in shock.

Adele, Don't you remember

"Oh, I gave you the space so you could breathe / I kept my distance so you would be free / In hope that you find the missing piece / To bring you back to me".

A/N: I could have tinkered with this chapter forever, but didn't want to leave you hanging... Couldn't have you thinking too poorly of Harry for too long! Work is crazy busy at the moment, but I'll do my best to finish the next chapter over the next few days or so... Xx


	4. Part D

7th February 2019 (continued)

"Shit, H!", Jeff reaches quickly over to right the fallen tumbler, as Mitch attempts to mop the table with the already soggy little serviette from beneath his beer bottle.

"Still a clumsy sod, then!", Tom sits back and shakes his head, keeping a keen eye on Harry.

Sitting there stock still, he just gapes at his phone.

"H?", Mitch prompts, looking up from the table.

Mutely turning his phone, he reveals the notification.

He cuts his eyes to see Jeff's widen in surprise, mouth dropping open. Mitch offers up a wide eyed, encouraging smile.

"Well, fucking hell, play it already!", Tom sasses, already reaching across the table to snatch it.

Despite his distraction, Harry effortlessly blocks him with a reflexive swipe of his forearm.

"Whoa, ouch! No need for the ninja moves, just fucking listen to it you pussy!".

Harry flips him off smoothly, midway to running a hand through his hair.

With a subtle shove to Tom, Jeff lends some reassurance. "We're here for you, man, whatever happens".

Pressing play with a shaky finger, Harry then throws himself back on his chair with a groan, nervously hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

Watching on tenterhooks, they hold their breath when he gasps and his body goes rigid.

After hurling himself forward, Harry freezes; elbows on his knee, mouth agape, and phone still to his ear.

"What? What did she say?", Mitch prompts.

"Umm...", Harry offers a sheepish grin. "I'm not sure I got anything after 'It's me...'. Fuck, it's good to hear her voice!".

Playing it again, his grin stretches wider.

It gives the boys hope.

"So?", Jeff asks eagerly.

Still staring moonily at his phone, Harry paraphrases. "It's done. He's already been extradited for sentencing in Sweden. And she knows... She's fucking furious, but she knows! And she's on her way, here. She told me not to dare move".

His relief is palpable, but his grin falters as he clocks their mixed reactions.

Totally out of character, Mitch claps gleefully, eyes looking suspiciously shiny.

Jeff is smiling, but has his thinking face on.

Tom's grimacing. "Well, when? You know, just so we can alert the authorities about Typhoon Eloise... So they can batten down the hatches and all", he jests.

That breaks Harry out of his daze, and he jumps to his feet, startling them. "Oh, God! She's coming here? Now?", he tugs at his hair. "Fuck! I think I'm going to be sick...".

He dashes to the toilets, already entirely overcome with nervous anticipation.

>

Gingerly re-emerging a few minutes later, he's a little more composed, but visibly rattled.

Sipping the water one of them had thoughtfully ordered for him, Harry picks up his discarded phone, juggling it between his hands distractedly as he starts voicing his jumbled thoughts. "Crispin or Ben must have squealed and told her everything... And where to find me".

"So, when is she arriving?", Jeff asks softly, trying to calm him down.

"She didn't say; just said she's on her way... It's a twelve hour flight from Heathrow, so, allowing some time at either end, she could make it in, what, seventeen or eighteen hours?".

Pulling up the British Airways app on his phone, Harry checks the flight times, before realising she could have caught any number of airlines.

"Could she have been in LA for the hearing?", Mitch asks. At Harry's shrug and puzzled frown in response, he adds, "But that's like the same flight time over the Pacific anyway, so it wouldn't make much difference".

"Could you call her Dad?", Jeff suggests. "To get her flight details and a heads-up on how she took it all?".

"I think I might be better off not knowing...". Harry pulls nervously at his lower lip, brow furrowed as he stares out the wall of windows at the bright lights of Tokyo spread out before them.

Checking the timestamp on the voicemail and her missed calls, the best he can figure is that she should arrive before tomorrow night.

And then he'll know, either way.

Fuck.

>  
>

7th February 2019 (earlier that day, in London)

Eloise is playing her least favourite new game again; puzzling pictures out of the shadows dancing across her wardrobe doors, despite the near darkness of her bedroom.

The sinewy silver birch trees outside her window diffuse light from either side of the front porch below.

She'd begged her dad to switch the damn floodlights off at night, but he'd been insistent; another security measure.

Her curtains are a touch too narrow to block all the light out, but she still hasn't done anything about them just yet.

So, here she is; yet another game of shadow play, in the early hours.

She'd tossed and turned for a bit after heading up to bed early - keen to get away from all the antsy vibes brewing downstairs - but now hasn't slept a wink since midnight, eagerly awaiting news from the hearing in LA, which had been scheduled for a 4pm start. Time difference be damned.

An over-abundance of racing thoughts and the early hours are rarely kind. She'd know.

Despite him having never been far from her thoughts, it's in the early hours that her mind seems to want to really torment her.

As usual, her swirling thoughts flit through snatches of feelings and memories of the last four months.

The longest four of her life, without a shadow of a doubt.

She mulls it all over; again.

>

That morning of their anniversary, her initial excitement at what Harry might have been planning, soon melted into worry and then concern.

Then, when her phone finally rang later that morning, after all those unanswered calls and texts to him, her initial sense of relief turned dramatically, drastically, to confusion and anger.

But not at him; not then.

Just more hurtful rumours, surely?

Until she'd seen the photos and headlines for herself.

Then shock and pain. What possible explanation? And where the fuck was he?

More unanswered calls; and a million questions brewing.

When she'd tried Ben, Jeff, and Mitch too, they either didn't know anything, or wouldn't tell her anything.

Actively fielding everyone but him, she frantically tried to defuse her brewing hurt and anger, willing herself to give him the benefit of the doubt. He'd never given her a reason to doubt him before; so she figured she owed him that much - the chance of explanation, at least.

But, in declining her calls and hiding out somewhere, he denied her even that.

Each playful scoff and 'Don't even bother...' at the beginning of his voicemail greeting felt like another stab in her heart, and further weakened her resolve and her faith in him.

Finally, hearing 'Mailbox full' instead, the red mist came a calling, and she'd hurled her phone against the wall.

When she'd opened the front door and seen the look on Mer and Adele's faces, she'd crumpled.

Confusion, hurt, rejection, embarrassment, fury, heartbreak... All the feels; but none of the good ones.

>

After staying with her for a night, Adele packed up some of her things and took a broken Eloise back home with her.

She'd been inexplicably angry with Ben, by extension, and had turned down Mer's offer to stay with them.

Aside from one embarrassing sojourn to Jeff and Glenne's, only to have had a meltdown on their doorstep, she'd bunkered down at Adele's for the best part of a week; riding out intrusive press, hurtful headlines, salacious gossip, wild accusations, and frenzied fans.

Then, none-the-wiser, but feeling resigned and all out of any remaining hope, she'd braved the gauntlet to LAX and headed home. Home home, to her parents.

There, it was like she devolved into her fifteen year old self again; surly, snippy, snarky.

Holed up in her bedroom, she ran over and over it all, again and again, desperately hunting for clues she must have missed. To not be able to understand or figure it out, was maddening.

If it wasn't for one thing, she was fairly certain she'd have written the whole episode off as some kind of farce or elaborate hoax... But, his silence spoke volumes.

God, that hurt most of all.

Then, after a second full week of moping, she'd left one final voicemail, then tried to convince herself to move on.

>

But, try as she might, Harry's evidently a hard man to hate.

Despite scoffing every time her dad advised her to be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt, she'd found herself inexplicably defending him whenever Lucas or Ollie started bashing him and raking his name through the mud again.

Two down - with Ben in LA, and her mum still in Stockholm with her poorly grandmother - she'd still felt smothered and hovered over by her worried family.

And not to mention her new shadow. She'd traded Eddie in LA for Barry in London - her new round-the-clock security detail.

Ironically, the looming threat of Magnus had barely crossed her mind of late. She'd been haunted by an emerald-eyed ghost instead.

Bored and stifled, she wiled away hours in their home gym, or else writing in her bedroom or in the den. Her mind barely registers what she's putting to paper, but at least going through the motions provides some distraction.

>

She'd quickly realised quite how many of her friendships are wrapped up in his. Of their inner circle, only Rosie and Adele feel like hers alone. It's lonely and isolating.

As a result, she felt torn over contacting any of their, his, friends. Not wanting to put them in an awkward position, she was equally un-keen to have to acknowledge the hurt and embarrassment she's still feeling.

So it meant all the more when people reached out to her.

Anne and Gemma both contacted her frequently, letting their confusion and disappointment of him be known.

Jeff and Glenne tried; Mitch and Sarah too.

Niall had been a total gem, and even offered her the keys to his West London penthouse whilst he was in LA with Hailee.

It had provided a fortuitously timed break; affording some welcome time out from under the thumb of her dad and brothers, before things boiled over.

However, convincing herself she'd caught sight of Magnus whilst out for a run in Hyde Park, terrified, she'd headed back home after just a couple of days.

But could it really have been him? Or was it just a figment of her imagination?

She started questioning her sanity.

The walls of their large home felt increasingly smaller; stifling.

Time started dragging; never more so than in the early house, when sleep became elusive.

Her search history was truly pathetic. Feeling desperate, she'd torture herself watching footage of Harry's performances and interviews. Breaking her own heart all over again, she poured over all those times she knew he'd been making pointed comments to her from the stage or singing his heart out directly to her.

God, this would have all been so much easier if she could just manage to hate him.

>

But Harry permeated her every thought and feeling.

Eloise could only feel hollow and numb at the news of her Golden Globe nominations; because she only wanted to celebrate with him.

After a miserable Christmas and New Year, heading back to LA - the scene of the crime - she felt nothing but angst and agony, and hated every minute of her time back there.

Needing to keep under the radar, she'd at least been able to eschew all the industry schmoozing and events beforehand. So it came as all the more of a shock, to find herself dressed in couture Chanel and facing the press on the red carpet, albeit clinging on to her dad's arm, with a bodyguard hovering close.

Inevitably, they pressed about her and Harry's relationship and why he wasn't with her tonight.

She hasn't been able to face watching the footage back yet, but it's no lie to say she hadn't known what to say.

Much like with the nominations, she couldn't glean much happiness from winning both her awards either. Not when he wasn't with her.

God, it's pathetic. She's supposed to be a proud and independent woman, not pining pathetically after some arrogant coward who cheated on her and publicly humiliated her in the process.

Fuck.

Scurrying straight back home to London, after a sweet but awkward reunion with an insistent Mitch and Sarah over coffee, she'd felt even further removed from her recent past.

Her whole life with Harry - extraordinary and bizarre as it was - feels like something distant and foreign already.

And, well, the new rumours about him and some model called Kiko suggest he's forgotten about her entirely.

But she sounds like a fucking cartoon or puppy or something, so good fucking luck to them. And, yes, she's well aware of the sugary confection of some of her own nicknames, thank you very much.

>

As the trial approached, her anxiety reached new heights, she found herself increasingly reluctant to leave the comfort and security of her teenage bedroom.

Evidently she wasn't the only one struggling.

Ben was too. With things still oddly strained between them, her first clue had been when he'd rocked up unannounced on the doorstep, having taken time off work, for the first time in, well, forever.

Despite everything, she's felt nothing but relief to have him with her for the last few days. He's been with her through all this from day one - both with Magnus and Harry - and it means so much that he's here for her.

At least someone is.

>

Mentally exhausted and physically antsy, she grows bored of tossing and turning, and creeps downstairs just after 4am.

Bundled in her dressing gown - notably not lilac or hooded - she picks her way down the landing, picking up her feet to avoid scuffing along the carpet.

But, hearing something downstairs, she's immediately on edge, and, in her distraction, hits both the notoriously creaky steps. Fuck it.

Picking up her pace, she peeks around the corner and is surprised to find her dad pootling around the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee.

He's a notoriously early riser, but this is ridiculous, even for him.

Padding over, she reaches up on to her tip toes to drop a kiss to his cheek, but he hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her into a tight hug.

Just a minute or so later, another set of arms wrap around her too, and, she knows, just from his squeeze, that it's Ben.

>

Sitting around the end of the kitchen table, they end up playing Scrabble.

It's the perfect passive distraction - even if she realises Scrabble green is remarkably like a certain pair of eyes, when they'd get all dark and intense and sexy. Fuck.

Squabbling intermittently over dubious words and dodgy tallying of scores, each lets their wandering thoughts rumble on in the back of their minds.

They enjoy the relative peace while it lasts.

Everything sure kicks off after the lawyers call with an update at 8am.

>

Then her entire world seems to shift on it's axis.

After hugs and tears of relief and resolution all round, knowing she's finally now safe, Crispin finally tells her everything.

Just four months too late.

She's furious and heartbroken and humbled and impressed and so in love. Did she mention furious?

"We did it because we love you. And we couldn't risk anything happening to you".

"Wait, who's 'we'?".

"Just Harry, myself, and Ben... No one else that I know of. Not even Jeff; not any of the detail...".

"Who's idea was it?".

"Harry's".

"How fucking dare he?", she explodes.

"Don't!", he roars. "I won't hear a bad word against him".

Eloise gapes at her dad in disbelief, blindsided and visibly shaking. After the relief and elation of the news about Magnus, she's struggling to process her now tumultuously swirling emotions.

She's been desperate for answers for months, and now she can't seem to formulate questions quickly enough.

But-? What-? Why-? How-?

How could they?

How dare they?

Why did they go behind her back?

Why did they need to break her heart and make her question her sanity in the process?

"If you'd known, would you have gone to him?".

"Yes! Immediately".

"Well, then it was all worth it, and I'd do exactly the same thing in a heartbeat".

Dropping heavily back into his seat, Crispin tugs at the sleeve of her dressing gown, encouraging her to follow suit.

She resists for a beat, but, seeing his broad shoulders slump as he rubs a ragged hand over his face, she's shocked to realise that he looks older and worn down, like he's been carrying a burden. And he has; even more than she realised.

After a long and weary sigh, he pauses to try to organise his thoughts, then tries to explain. "The day after that first meeting with Homeland Security, Harry woke up early too, and we had a heart to heart on the balcony... He asked me some questions, about the real level of risk, and I may have given him some details about mum's ordeal, and the aftermath, that we've never told you kids".

Cutting his dark eyes back up to hers, a wide and watery blue, he continues. "He was adamant, immediately... And I can understand why".

He lifts a hand to squeeze hers, eyeing her intently. "He's an amazing man, Lolly... He has flawless instincts, but still willingly damaged his reputation and his chances with you to ensure your safety... He was annihilated by the media, and probably will be again if the verdict of the hearing hits the press, and they work out the dates and the timing of him ghosting you... But, please, Eloise, just hear him out? You owe him that much, for that sacrifice alone".

She has a million questions, and despite her shock at her dad's revelations and vehement defence of Harry, she knows he's not the one that needs to answer them.

Neither is Ben.

>

After pacing around her bedroom for over an hour, desperately trying to piece everything together and organise her thoughts, she realises her dad's right.

She needs to speak to him.

She needs to go to him.

Striding back downstairs, she levels a look at Ben, and speaks to him for the first time since her scathing words earlier. "Where is he? Where can I find him?".

The Aman, in Tokyo? Ouch.

He really had run away to the other side of the world. But why choose a place that held such happy memories for them? That has to hint at some kind of masochism, surely?

Back in the safety of her bedroom, she pulls out her phone and drops heavily on to her bed.

After staring at his number again for the first time in a while and hyping herself up, she holds her breath in anticipation, only to growl in frustration when his voicemail greeting immediately kicked in.

'Don't even-', she lets out a scoff of her own and ends the call with a frustrated jab of her finger.

But she won't give up that easily, not this time.

Frowning as she tries to work out the time difference, she figures it must be eight or nine o'clock in the evening in Tokyo right now. Perhaps he's out at dinner? But he wouldn't normally turn his phone off...

When her second call goes straight to voicemail she waits it out.

"H, it's me... Umm, so the verdict's in. The hearing was a few hours ago, and he's already being extradited to Sweden, for sentencing... Anyway, umm, that's not why I'm calling. Dad just told me, Harry. Everything... Well, fuck, not everything. I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start... But I hope you'll talk to me this time. I mean, not answering this call doesn't bode very well, but I have to try... I'm coming, Harry, to Tokyo. Don't you dare move... So, umm, I guess I'll see you soon? Hopefully".

Focusing hard on trying keep her tone steady and her voice from wavering, as soon as she hangs up, she can't recall what she said. Did she ramble? Was she too mean? Shit, did she blurt out that she still loves him or anything embarrassing?

>  
>

8th February 2019

After some frantic packing, and then some antsy pacing at Heathrow, they finally took off at 7pm.

Now 4pm the next day, they've just landed in Tokyo, bang on time.

In that annoying wasted time, waiting for the plane to finish taxiing to its gate, Eloise can't help but wonder where she lost her nerve.

She rolls her eyes at herself, knowing exactly when.

It first wavered when she'd hung up from leaving that voicemail. Then, her determination and competitive streak saw her through the second big wobble in the BA Lounge; she would not be the one to back down, not again. And her third wobble, as the plane started accelerating down the runway, had her downing the entirety of the glass of red wine she'd been given upon taking her seat in Business Class.

Despite her exhaustion, she hadn't slept a wink. She's too wired, too on edge.

The red wine had only swirled her thoughts, not blanked them out.

Her trusty noise cancelling headphones hadn't been able to block out her millions of questions.

And she'd resolutely been ignoring Ben.

He didn't want her flying alone in the state she was in. He's been a part of their relationship since before day one; and he feels guilty. He'd gone along with the plan, eventually, and kept it from her. He, and their dad, are both implicated in all this too; it's not Harry's alone to shoulder.

But, all Eloise knows, is that he's a huffy, heavy-breathing, wriggling and shuffling, 6'1" shadow of a travelling companion. And he's on her very last nerve.

>

Feeling anxious and discombobulated already, Eloise emerges from the peaceful cabin, straight into the dazzling neon signage of Haneda airport, with Ben hot on her heels.

It's a lot to take in on any given day, but her already frazzled state of mind isn't in much of a fit state to handle the added stimulation.

She quickly remembers the unsettling sense of being a tall, white, blonde female in Japan. She can't quite decide if she feels more like a goldfish in a bowl, a captive killer whale trapped listlessly circling an aquarium tank, or just a big old fish out of water.

Sucking in a deep breath as soon as they step outside to the taxi rank, a racking cough takes hold of her.

Fuck, it's cold and damp. Despite her black Moncler puffer coat, scarf and gloves, she can feel it in her bones. One day, she'll come to Japan in the spring, to feel the warmth on her skin and finally see the bloody cherry blossoms everyone wangs on about. But, today, it's as grey and gloomy as her mood.

After a forty minute taxi journey, in which she'd ordinarily be cricking her neck to gaze around and soak everything in, instead she stares blankly at the fat wet snowflakes - rare enough in Tokyo over winter. Landing on her window, they melt as they slope lazily downward, from slush to water by the time they reach the door sill.

She drops her head against it and sucks in a deep breath.

Wordlessly, Ben reaches over to grip and squeeze her hand. She squeezes his minutely back, but doesn't trust herself to say anything.

>

Entering the hotel lobby from the ear-popping lift's atrium on the thirty third floor, Eloise breathes an unexpected sigh of relief. The painstakingly designed hallowed calm proves remarkably effective.

All clean lines, lofty ceilings, muted palettes and everything at a hushed volume, it's like a soothing balm for her frazzled brain and senses.

She's not sure if their five star service - greeting her formally by name with a reverent bow before she's even reached the reception desk - is due to a note in their system telling them she's a returning guest, if they might recognise her, or whether someone might have tipped them off? Hmm.

Trying her luck, she asks the concierge if he can tell her which room a Mr. Mick Greenberg is in. The first of a few of his alias' she knows to try.

Half expecting a polite comment about guest privacy, she's surprised to see him smile softly and tap on his touchscreen. "Mr. Greenberg upgraded your suite. He's also on the 38th floor, but on the opposite corner of the building, suite 3808. You're in 3802".

Eloise can only drop a heavy hand to the cool stone check-in desk.

Fuck, he's really here. Shit, like, just upstairs.

>

Arriving at their suite, she can't help but recall the blissful few days she'd spent in a very similar room, at this very hotel, just over a year ago.

She knows exactly how comfy that bed will be. In her exhaustion, having barely slept for two days now, it's practically singing out to her in invitation.

But the flashbacks are visceral and hit her, all at once, with a physical jolt.

Nights drinking wine, soaking in the tub, looking over the city lights. Now 5.30pm, they're already out in all their splendour. The views from that incredible spa, too. And drinking too much sake over the best sushi she's ever had. Ornate room service afternoon teas while they FaceTimed Ben, Mer and a newborn Ruby... God, it all feels like forever ago.

Feeling overwhelmed and suddenly overly warm, she dumps her bag and tears off her scarf and coat.

Bending to undo the lock of her suitcase, she then stills.

Standing back upright, she scoffs, "What the fuck am I doing?". Whirling around, she heads straight for the door.

But Ben steps in front of her and drops his hands to her shoulders, bending his knees to look her in the eye. "Have a shower. You look like shit and smell all planey... Just give yourself a few minutes. Believe me, you'll thank me later".

>

With her hair still a bit damp and her glasses steaming up a little, she digs through her suitcase, trying to find a pair of socks, before giving up.

Sliding on a pair of hotel slippers instead, she spins to grab her discarded key card off the console table and wrenches the door open.

Rounding two corners, she speed walks straight up to suite 3808 and hammers on the door.

She just catches herself too late.

What the fuck is she doing?!

What is she thinking?

What on earth is she going to say?

And why didn't she think any of this through in the fucking shower?

But that incredible waterfall shower head has a lot to answer for. It was the first thing in what has felt like forever that finally managed to quieten her racing thoughts.

Then the door opens.

That proves to quieten her thoughts too.

>

It's Jeff.

He gapes, then pulls her straight into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. After everything you've been through-".

She rears back, cutting him off. "Do not tell me he's not here?".

"Oh, El, no-", he shakes his head.

"What, he's left? That fucking coward-".

"No, no!", he cuts her off this time. "He's just in the shower", he smiles softly.

"Oh! Oh, shit... I- Did-? Did you know?", she stutters, running a hand through her still damp hair.

"Know what?", he asks gently.

"...Anything?", she begs.

"No", Jeff explains hurriedly. "I only knew that he needed something staged, but he wouldn't tell me what. He just told me not to try to defend anything in the press and to clear his schedule. And I've been tearing my hair out over him ever since... We headed here straight here after hearing from Gemma about his birthday. Then, last night, everything seemed to change, but I haven't gotten a huge amount of sense out of him since".

She scoffs gently. "That makes two of us then, I guess? Fuck, I'm confused".

"Well, he's the man with your answers, right?".

Mitch interrupts them, rounding the corner from the living room of the suite, where she can hear a Packers game on.

He yelps and dashes straight to her, pulling her into his arms for a long and tight hug.

"Thank God you're here, El. I've been so worried about him. Are you okay? He only told me about the hearing and everything last night... He didn't go into any real detail, but are you okay? Is it done? Shit, you feel skinny".

Eloise is taken aback. She's not sure she's heard him say so much, so quickly, ever.

She offers him a bleak smile. "Heartbreak and a stalker will do that to you, I guess", she chuckles softly.

But then she looks over his shoulder and gasps.

Fuck.

Unwrapping her arms from around Mitch, she drops her head against his shoulder for a beat and takes a couple of deep breaths.

Then, straightening her posture, lowering her shoulders, she holds her head up high, and steps around him.

"We'll, umm, give you some space", Jeff says softly, looking between them both.

"Ben's in 3802", Eloise whispers to Mitch, pressing her key card into his hand.

She's vaguely aware of Tom squeezing her hand as he files out behind them, but her eyes don't leave Harry's.


	5. Part E

A/N: Here it is...! I hope you'll find this makes up for the angst of the last few chapters?! Wattpad notifications have been a little screwy again, so please ensure you've checked out the previous chapter (uploaded on Saturday), or else this won't make any sense... Enjoy! Xx

8th February 2018

After only sleeping fitfully, Harry dragged the boys down to the hotel gym, bright and early.

Whilst Mitch and Tom sat drinking their coffees in silent protest, Jeff dutifully tagged around after him, keeping a watchful eye as he bounded between cardio machines and weights.

They all stare, impressed and a little intimidated, when he started going to town on the punching bag; intent on burning up the last of his restless energy.

>

After the sauna, steam room and then the pool, Harry realised as they grabbed some lunch that he had nothing to wear. Unconvinced there'd be anything clean he could grab from the rest of his stuff still scattered around Fujii's house, he decided they needed to go shopping.

Throughout most of his time in Tokyo, he'd been living in tour merch, black sweats, hoodies and beanies, or else a limited repertoire of ratty t-shirts, a blue vintage pair of jeans and an oversized khaki jacket.

But none of that would do for Eloise. After four long months and everything he put her through? He'll need to bring his A-game.

Heading outside, the boys were amazed at how little fuss Harry attracted as he slipped in and out of the taxi and stealthily into the Gucci store.

Afterwards, he'd had them stop off at a barber shop Kunichi recommended, just for a little trim and a spruce up.

What a tart. The guys lent some levity, ribbing him over his sudden vanity and underlying nerves.

>

But the barber didn't style it quite right, so as soon as they returned to the hotel, just before 5pm, Harry headed straight to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

After eyeing the time nervously, then unfastening his watch, pulling off his rings, emptying his pockets, and setting his phone to charge on the nightstand, he promptly started stripping off.

"You gonna sort yourself out, yeah? Good idea", Tom heckled, ignoring Harry's scoff, "I am absolutely not kidding, mate!". Unperturbed after failing to dodge the socks pelted in his direction, he calls out after him, "Four months? Poor little Harold will be gunning for some attention!". Grinning smugly at the others, he ignored Harry's rude gesture as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

Boys will be boys.

>

But, admittedly, Harry was in there a while.

The waterfall shower head did amazing things to the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders.

And, fine, Tom may have had a point.

It's been hard not to get his hopes up unduly, but he figured that might at least help take care of one potential distraction.

>

Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, with one towel wrapped around his waist and one over his head, Harry's vision is obscured as he vigorously rubs his damp hair.

Whipping back his still lengthy enough wild curls, he shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the dizziness. 

When his vision settles, he gasps in shock and drops the towel from his hand, stopping short a few metres away.

Raking his fingers nervously, distractedly through his hair, desperately trying to tame it, he casts his unblinking gaze over her, drinking her in.

She looks flustered; frazzled and rumpled. And pale. Skinny too, in black leggings, and with comically big hotel slippers dwarfing her bare feet. Her cropped damp hair falls in tousled waves above her pronounced collar bones, and her hands are tucked nervously into the too-long sleeves of her cream knit jumper. Her eyes seem a bit bloodshot behind her glasses - perched a little wonkily across her bare face.

But, God, she's actually here. The emotions flitting over her expressive glass face reveal she's tired and confused and cross and a little shellshocked... But she's here.

And he thinks she's never looked more beautiful. Genuinely.

Staring back just as brazenly, her first thought is that he looks buff... So sue her, but come on!

Against the contours and shadows his muscles cast across his unusually pale skin, a myriad of ink peeks out at her - swallows, butterfly, heart, rose, eagle and much more besides - like old friends, saying hello.

But he looks scruffy too; with his grown-out hair curling around his ears and almost grazing his jaw, and a heavier five o'clock shadow than she's used to. And, judging by the pronounced shadows under his eyes, she's not sure when he last got a good night's sleep either.

He seems older and more mature, somehow, in just four months. Broader, bigger, manlier.

Fuck, she's missed him.

>

There's a heavy, weighted silence after the door finally shuts behind his three best friends.

"El, I'm-", he starts tentatively, but she cuts him off, finding her nerve and fearing that whatever he has to say might render her incapable.

She blurts it all out. "You-, You did the very worst thing anyone's ever done to me... You hurt me, so badly. And made me question and doubt everything about us... But you also did the very best thing anyone's ever done for me. I can't understand it and I have a million questions and a billion things to say... But, right now, I can't think of anything apart from how much I've missed you... I hate you a tiny bit, but I love you, so, so much-".

A sob catches in her throat, causing her to whimper.

Heaving a deep breath as her vision blurs with unshed tears, she staggers a little in her ridiculous slippers and, reflexively, he strides towards her; stepping smoothly in and scooping her into his arms on instinct.

They can't get close enough, quickly enough. Her soft curves melt into his harder planes.

Totally overwhelmed, her shaky breaths catch and stutter up her throat, releasing in a trapped, hiccuping squeak, high in her chest.

Her soft peal of laughter, embarrassed, sets off his disbelieving chuckle, but he swallows it as hers tails into a proper sob.

When she crumples against him, entirely boneless, he takes her weight and holds her up effortlessly.

"Oh, El...", his voice is a little wobbly too and comes out in a bubbling chuckle.

Lifting a hand to cradle the crown of her head, he bends his knees to lean back to get another look at her, but she just shakes her head and burrows further into his neck.

Before he can comprehend his unexpected stoicism and sense of calm, he feels her press a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and his knees give out too; literally.

With a yelp, she flings her arms out for balance, but it's too late and they land in an ungainly tangle of limbs. But, dropping straight down on to his shins, he reflexively cushions her fall, pulling her on top of him. 

Sprawled on the floor, they remain entwined, just breathing each other in.

Holding tight and with hands scrabbling for even closer purchase, they find reassurance in each other's thumping heartbeat.

They're otherwise silent, bar rogue sighs, sniffs, hiccups, and sobs. 

Minutes pass, and neither makes any move to let go.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Awkwardly bent up, with one foot underneath her and one planted by his hip, she unfurls her long legs. Stretching them out, of quite their own accord, they end up sliding around his torso to cross tightly behind his back.

As her shifting hips inadvertently meet some resistance, she cranes her neck back, looking at him wide eyed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!", he blushes. "It's, well, it's you... And it's been four months. I just can't believe you're here... But I'm sorry, that's fucking embarrassing. I'm not some horny teenager. And-".

"H?", she cuts him off.

"Hmm?", he reaches up to thumb the tears from her cheeks.

"Can you kiss me? I need you to kiss me", she whispers, eyes dropping to his inviting pink lips.

There's a whine of longing from low in his throat, even as his lips twitch into an irresistible smirk.

Surging in, he just catches himself.

After raking his fingers through her bobbed hair, combing it back away from her face, he strokes his thumbs over her jaw and neck, gazing at her in disbelief.

Fluttering her eyes closed, she whimpers softly, at both his touch, and the effort to keep her hips still.

As he leans in slowly, she gasps at the feel of his breath hitting her lips, readily parting them, in invitation.

Her hands grapple him closer, tracing the defined muscles of his back, rippling as he shifts and strains to hold himself back.

Leaning closer still, to rub his nose gently up and down hers, she mewls.

That noise alone crumbles the last of his resolve, and he finally surges forward.

>

How can one person feel like home?

Familiar pillowing, pressing, hungry lips.

Sliding, stroking, silky tongues.

Irresistible sighs, hums, whimpers.

Needy, tugging, frenzied hands.

Chests, hips, hearts moulding.

Home.

Oh, God, why can't he seem to stop kissing and touching her?

She's addictive, and he's binging hard after painstaking withdrawals.

It leaves him light-headed.

And, breathless, she lets out another sob. Overcome with emotion, her racking shiver rattles against his frame.

As he pulls back, just enough to be able to gaze into her watery eyes, he feels her tighten her arms around him, in desperate need of grounding.

But the look he sees flash fleetingly in her eyes makes him shiver a bit too.

Is that uncertainty? Pain? Regret?

But it's gone just as quickly; replaced with a look he has no trouble recognising.

Hunger.

She pounces.

Wrapping her long, lean, surprisingly strong legs even tighter around him, intentionally canting her hips, she surges closer and captures his lips hotly.

He can barely keep up.

"Wait-, Hang on-", he says around frantic kisses.

"Sex first, talk later. Please-", she begs in a husky whisper.

"El, hold up...", he cranes his neck back, and looks up to the ceiling, trying to momentarily block out the distraction of her in his lap, with those eyes and those lips. "I can't risk just falling into bed with you if this, us, isn't a sure thing".

He drops his head and eyes her intently, desperately trying to decipher those swirling pools of dark blue. They've never felt like such a mystery to him. "...That would fucking finish me off", he admits lowly; the soft and honest tone of his voice at odds with the piercing intensity of his stare.

Detangling her fingers from the curls at the nape of his neck, she offers him a soft half smile. "I jumped straight on a plane, didn't I?".

Then, taking him by surprise, she pulls her jumper over her head and swiftly reaches to unhook her bra. 

"Whoa, El... I'm serious-", he tries desperately to keep his eyes locked on hers, but he's not a saint. And, come on, it's been four very long months.

"Shh...", she hushes him. With one hand demurely holding the silky fabric of her bra to her chest, she twists in his lap to reveal her left side to him.

Looking down, he gasps.

"...I somehow couldn't bear to see it incomplete", she catches his watery green eyes as his snap back up to hers. Well, that's a loaded statement if ever there was one.

"Baby...", he finally says it. But he doesn't quite know what else to say, thumbing the small and feathery soft musical notes inked on her ribcage against a smudge of muted rainbow colours.

He can't help but sing She's Like a Rainbow quietly as he stares at it, spellbound. It's delicate and pretty, but thoughtful and speaks volumes; just like her.

His heart swells at the thought of her going through with it, when, ostensibly, she should have been hating him. But it also simultaneously breaks a bit, at the thought of not being there to hold her hand, like he'd promised.

"We need to talk it all out, but I'm not going anywhere, okay?", she drops her free hand to cradle his face, tilting it up to look at her. "We'll deal with it all, together, I promise... But I need you-, I need you to ground me, somehow, please?", she implores softly.

After kissing him once more, softer this time, loaded with feeling, she pulls back again, dropping her forehead to his.

"Will you just answer me two questions?", she asks, a little hesitantly.

"Anything", he promises quickly, albeit lathing kisses to her collarbones, not quite able to meet her eye as he tries to steel himself.

"Were you always intending to come back to me?".

"Yes, always!", his eyes cut back up to her in shock. "Well, if you'd have me... And if you wouldn't, or couldn't forgive me, then I'd have done anything to explain and try to make it up to you", he says earnestly.

Shaking off her relieved if slightly dazed expression, her brow furrows as he leans slightly back and twists away from her. Following his gaze, down towards his torso, it's her turn to gasp. 

It's subtle, but it's definitely there. His fine line. 

A neat, black line tattooed vertically down the lower ribs on his left hand side, below the birdcage and cluster of existing ink. "It's my new favourite, and the most special by a mile", he admits with a soft smile.

Lifting a shaky finger, she traces it before cutting her eyes back up to his; his emerald orbs are already locked on hers, swirling with heady emotion. 

"Just promise me one thing-", she whispers.

"Anything", he repeats, cutting her off in his eagerness.

"I think I understand why you did it, but please, please, just promise me you'll never make that big of a decision about us, without me, ever again?".

"I promise", he exhales. "God, yes, I promise. I wouldn't want to, I couldn't go through something like that again".

She drops her forehead back to his, letting out a long and relieved exhale of her own.

"Was that your second question?", he prompts.

When she squirms in his lap and gets bashful, he knows exactly what's coming.

"No... Umm, did you actually-? Was there anyone else?", she whispers before literally holding her breath.

"No! Absolutely not, I swear to you". When she sags against him in relief, shifting on his lap, he has to bite back a groan. "I've been a monk... Well, a monk who wanks a lot, but still... I won't even ask you, I know I don't have the right-".

"You don't have to", she cuts him off, allaying his worst fears. "Barry, my security detail was no competition, trust me", she chuckles, thinking of his jowls and silvery hair. "I've hardly seen anyone else", she shrugs and then drops her gaze again. "...But I was trying to make myself hate you, so I've not even been sorting myself out", she can't help but pout.

"Sounds like I owe you orgasms as well as apologies?", he can't help but grin and jostles her shoulders playfully.

"Better get to it then", she smirks and meets him halfway in an eager kiss.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her back and bum, he takes a deep breath and grunts. Rocking forwards to free his feet from under him, he heaves up to standing with her still wrapped around him like a koala bear.

Quickly finding her lips again, it's a distracted and ungainly stagger to the bed, where he drops to sit with her still in his lap.

But it's her that pushes him back and then rolls, lying back and pulling him on top of her. "I meant what I said about needing grounding...", she explains. "Please, just let me feel you".

After eagerly peeling off their scant few layers and quickly reacquainting themselves, things abruptly turn slower and more serious.

It's languorous, intentionally so; both desperate to last to have time to reconnect.

It's intense and emotional too; they both cry.

If his kiss felt like home, she can't even begin to describe this... Almost like a rebirth-? Wait, no, that's weird.

>

Round two, back under that waterfall shower, was more energetic, more carnal, more needy.

Then, after switching off the lights and slipping back into bed, with legs and bodies and hands entwined, they finally talk; for hours.

In the near darkness of the bedroom, in hushed tones, interspersed with sniffles and whimpers, they lay themselves bare all over again; even more exposing.

Truths, hurts, feelings, emotions, regrets.

Then promises - resolute ones; never again.

>

Clearing his throat, Harry asks shyly if she'll fill him in about Zayn after the Golden Globes. "...I'm just curious; I couldn't figure that out", he shrugs with a puzzled expression.

"I wondered what you might make of that", she smiles softly, nudging his shoulder. "I didn't even see the photographer, but it was nothing... Well, not entirely nothing", she twists to look up at him, to watch his reaction.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so as soon as I arrived at the afterparty, I headed straight for the toilets, for a breather... But, needless to say, I was the punchline of the joke when I emerged from a stall to find Kendall, Cara and Taylor staring at me in the mirror". Now, in hindsight and with him naked at her side, she can't help but smile as he blanches.

"Fucking hell! Really? God, I'm so sorry...", he winces, looking sheepishly down at her.

She mirrors his expression playfully. "Well, when Bella stood up from taking a line and made a catty comment about you, I whirled out of there just as the other girls started squabbling amongst themselves... Zayn had been waiting for Gigi outside, and, seeing them all filing out after me, he must have had a hunch. After pressing, he didn't hesitate to put Bella in her place. He sassed that she might know a thing about cheating, but that in all the time he knew you and saw thousands of girls literally throw themselves at you, he never once saw you cheat on anyone". She smiles as he raises his eyebrows in shock. "So yeah, I just chatted to him for a few minutes, then snuck the hell out of there".

Harry didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. Mulling it over, deep in thought, he figures Zayn was always really principled, and definitely fiery when in protective mode.

>

Eloise asks if his mum and Gemma knew anything.

"No, not really", his lips turn down at the corners as he picks at a thread on the duvet. "It's killed me, but I know how much they love you and was worried they wouldn't be able to resist defending me online... I just couldn't risk anything being let slip by anyone, and inadvertently putting you in danger".

She wraps her hand around his, stilling his fidgeting. "I can't begin to thank you for that, but I feel terrible that this mess has come between you and them... Can we FaceTime them tomorrow?".

He grins, already looking forward to resolving that tension.

She doesn't have the heart to admit it, but, in return, she realises she needs to ensure her dad fills Ollie and Lucas in. It's safe to say they have not been on Team Harry. But, as furious and broken hearted as she was, she couldn't bear to hear a bad word against him, and they'd had multiple spats over it all. She's barely spoken to either of them for weeks now.

Harry's curious to hear which of his, their, friends reached out to her.

"Well, Adele might tear your balls off with her bare hands", she warns. "Rosie must have a massive soft spot for you, and was adamant something wasn't adding up... And Stevie reached out and urged me to give you the benefit of the doubt". He swallows thickly.

"Mitch and Sarah checked in", she adds, "Glenne too, and Jeff tried". Then she grins, "And Niall was amazing; he even gave me his key to stay in his penthouse if I needed a break and had to get out from under Dad's thumb".

"How has it been, with your mum?", he asks softly.

"Honestly? Worse than ever, somehow", she shrugs with a frown. "Dad thinks that once it's all resolved, something will change, but I'm just not sure... She's lived in fear of all this for twenty-five years, I'm not expecting sunshine and rainbows overnight".

>

"Everyone's going to freak when they hear about this, us", he lifts their joined hands to drop smiling kisses to the back of her palm. "Not least my label and publicists", he adds with a chuckle.

"Oh, God, they must hate me?", she winces.

"Why would they hate you?".

"Err, all that terrible press after that fucking stunt?".

He can't help but scoff in recollection. "That's on me, not you. Don't you worry about that. Like I said, only your dad, Ben and maybe Mer knew", he shrugs.

"And your team?", she prompts.

He shakes his head. "Only now. Only Jeff, and Tom and Mitch".

"Wait, Harry, your management and label and publicists didn't know?", she sits up and gapes at him. "What on earth did they have to say about all those headlines?".

"You don't want to know, trust me", he laughs; he has to.

"I do, H", she insists. "Fuck, the damage you must have done-?".

He cuts her off to explain softly. "It was personal; need to know... And they didn't need to know", he shrugs again. "I've given them a pretty easy ride so far, so figured I could let them work for a bit of all that money they siphon off me".

"Oh, my God, we have to fix this!", she tugs at the roots of her hair in worry.

He reaches up and pulls her hand back down to his lap, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. "It's done", he coos.

But she carries on regardless, strategising. "Legally, I can't say anything about him and I don't really want it out there, but we'll think of something, okay? Anything to help make amends... We'll sort something, together", she says pointedly.

"God, 'together' sounds good", he beams, teeth flashing in the near darkness.

He can't help but moot never being apart from her again. "...Better get used to it", he lifts her left hand to his lips and peppers it with kisses.

"That's not you asking, is it?", she ribs him.

"No, not yet", he smiles softly, catching her eye with an intense look. "But it's a 'when', not an 'if' for me, you have to know that?".

That certainly wipes the smirk from her face.

>

Just before 10pm, and just after round three - inevitably, after that - they settle down. Finally.

They're both entirely spent. Physically and emotionally.

Barely having slept in three days, her reserves are running desperately low, even by her new insomniac standards. And he hadn't managed much last night either.

But, entwined together, they both drop off to sleep, easily; for the first time in what feels like forever.

>  
>

9th February 2019

In the pale dawn light, something causes Eloise to wake with a start from a deep and restful sleep.

Her still half asleep brain is on a lag, neither recognising the room nor the unfamiliar heavy arm draped over her waist, holding her firm against a muscled chest.

After an unconscious shiver racks her slim frame, she tenses and sucks in a ragged breath.

The arm lifts and torso backs up a fraction, but hovers close.

As the hand inches closer and she catches sight of the eagle on the underside of his right forearm, her senses snap slowly into focus and she lets out the breath she'd been holding.

"You okay, baby?". That low, rumbling, rasping morning voice is unmistakable and she melts back against him, inviting his hold again as he drops a contented kiss to her bare shoulder.

Fuck, that all really happened.

The unfamiliar ache between her thighs confirms it.

She twists on to her front and pauses for a second, collecting herself as she's face down in the pillow, before neatly flipping again.

Pressing impossibly, needily closer, she drops a soft kiss to his chest, right above his pounding heart.

Sliding one arm between his and his waist, she dances her fingers across the play of muscles over his broad back. With her head pillowed on her other bicep, she lifts that hand to cord her fingers through his hair.

His sweet sigh and smiling kiss to her forehead is at odds with how she feels him stir against her upper thigh.

He shifts back with a frown, "Shit, sorry, again. I just-, it's-".

Hooking her hip over his, she pulls their cores flush and raises an eyebrow at him in challenge.

"Well... It's you!", he huffs with a chuckle. "It's always been you". He never stood a chance.

She looks up and is left speechless at his intense look; enchanting emeralds outshining sparkling sapphires.

>

By early afternoon, when there's still no sign of them, Ben, Jeff, Mitch and Tom squabble quietly just inside the door into the suite.

Poor Mitch draws the short straw.

Grumbling, he hesitantly cracks the door to Harry's bedroom, and cocks his head to listen out. Hearing nothing, he braves a peek.

Shit, that's cute.

They're tangled in each other and the sheets. As close as can be, even fast asleep. She's on her back, but twisted with her hip over his. He's ostensibly on his side, but leaning right over her, his lips pillowed to her neck. Heads together in a tangle of blonde waves and brown curls. They're even holding hands.

Mind you, for that Mitch is grateful, the angle of Harry's bent arm is the only thing sparing his blushes from seeing too much of Eloise right now.

Taking a step back, he closes the door and releases the breath he didn't know he was holding.

Spinning to the guys with a toothy grin, he claps a hand to his mouth as he swallows a bubble of laughter that inadvertently comes out as a sob.

They're back; they'll save each other. Two of his very best friends... The relief is palpable.

>

After another hour or so, once the boys head back upstairs after lunch and hear some hushed noise from the bedroom, Ben raps his knuckles on the door as he passes. "Come on, lovebirds!".

But, evidently Mitch hadn't clicked the door properly closed again, and it springs open.

Ben realises a fraction too late... Just too late to avoid clocking his litter sister's naked back, sitting up astride Harry's lap.

"Arghh, fucking hell!", he wails. Grappling for the door with his eyes shut, he then sprints to turn up the volume on the TV, desperate to drown them out.

Oops.

But what can Harry say? He's a man of his word, and he was not kidding about making up for those four months of orgasms he owes her.

>  
>

12th February 2019

After eventually dragging themselves from bed - finally well-rested, mellowed and positively beaming, if a little self conscious - Harry and Eloise spent the next few days floating around in their little love bubble, both alone and with the boys.

Harry showed them his favourite vinyl bars. And introduced them to Fujii and Bel, and Kunichi.

At their insistence, he took Tom, Mitch and Jeff to hear his progress on the album.

With her track record hearing his albums for the first time, Eloise knew she wasn't nearly ready for that, and hung back at the hotel for a heart to heart with Ben instead, finally clearing the air between them.

It marked the first time in a few of days that she had to go more than a few minutes without touching Harry somehow, and she didn't enjoy it at all... Evidently she's still not entirely grounded just yet, and more than a bit needy.

Alone, she and Harry made the most of nocturnal soaks in the deep, square stone bath in her suite - now theirs, after that incident with Ben - whilst savouring the mesmerising view of the city lights. And, of course, in the serene spa and pool too, with its sun-drenched daybeds laid out against those expansive windows.

>

They caught up on what else they'd missed, in each other's bizarre four months alone.

Work stuff, family news, friends' gossip. And, still adjusting to the idea of life back together, their long discussions about the next few weeks and months and years, filled them with love and hope and happiness.

Eloise received all the reassurance she could ever need about his promise and instance that he'd only ever intended their separation as temporary - however painful - when he pulled out his laptop to show her some properties he'd been keeping an eye on.

"Our addresses are out there", he explained, "And I won't take that risk, not anymore. The New York condo is like a fortress, but the houses in LA and London have us like sitting ducks...".

After refreshing some pages, and getting her head around the eye-watering prices, even she was disappointed to see some had since sold or been listed as under offer. "Oh, bummer, that one was bloody amazing!", she pouted, "You shouldn't have waited".

"Well, I wasn't going to decide on anything without you, was I? I promised, remember? No more big decisions alone".

"That was three days ago!".

"That was four months ago, believe me", he'd replied in all seriousness. "I might be prone to learning lessons the hard way, but I take them to heart when I do".

It was all the promise she needed from him, and then some.


	6. Part F

12th February 2019 (continued)

After lunch, as they all headed back upstairs to start thinking about packing, Harry sheepishly gave Eloise quite the early Valentine's Day present.

"Shit, H!", she gasped. "I've already got an anniversary, Christmas and your birthday to make up for, and now this?". Her beaming smile belied her playful swatting.

After saying goodbye to Ben, Jeff, Mitch and Tom outside the hotel, as they cram their suitcases into a taxi to head to the airport and back to LA, Harry and Eloise jump into one of their own.

>

As much as it pains them to separate, even for an hour or so, conscious of the time and their flight early this evening, they part at the elevator with a sly peck. Harry peels off to the menswear department, and Eloise heads up again to womenswear.

In a wild dash around their respective floors of Matsuya, one of Tokyo's most luxurious department stores, they grab swimwear and holiday attire, accessories and toiletries, then meet back at the side entrance; each laden with bags and giddy with excitement for their impending, impromptu trip.

>

Travelling halfway to LA, they stop off in the tropical paradise of French Polynesia for a two week holiday in Bora Bora, just the two of them.

Right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it's just about as remote as can be.

After several connecting flights and a killer nineteen hour time difference, they arrive not quite knowing if they're coming or going.

But, thanks to their final mode of transport - a tiny private seaplane that lands on a picture postcard lagoon and pulls up to their over-water villa at the luxurious Four Seasons resort - they quite literally stumble almost straight into bed.

>  
>

22nd February 2019

Harry had certainly chosen paradise in which to recover from the jet lag. It's been nothing short of pared-back, barefoot luxury. Heavenly.

Sitting perched at the end of a snaking wooden walkway, suspended above the crystal clear, turquoise lagoon, their thatched, over-water, private villa has been their haven.

Inside, the enormous bed, and opulent bathroom with a huge sunken tub, have proved hard to drag themselves from, but the deck is more than tempting in itself. With a private plunge pool and hot tub, plush sun loungers, double hammock, and a cabana day bed, it even has its own steps, right down into the sea below.

They were also appointed a personal butler - the lovely Manea - intent on catering to their every whim and fancy. So far, besides plying them with plenty of margaritas, he's sourced yoga mats, paddleboards and snorkelling gear, and arranged couples massages, bikes to explore the island, and even a sunset catamaran cruise. He's truly a wonder.

To Eloise's delight, they didn't even step foot on sand until nearly the end of their first week. And that was for a surprise private dinner on the beach. Harry's idea; but the flawless execution was all down to Manea.

Secluded, private and discrete, the resort has been fairly quiet, and they've been the youngest guests by at least fifteen years or so. They'd been conscious of feeling a few eyes on them in the bar or restaurants or while walking on the beach, but, refreshingly, no one has overstepped beyond curiosity.

They've only been approached for photos or autographs a couple of times - but it was more of a literal run-in each time, as they passed people on the narrow walkways linking the lagoon villas. And it seems their pleas to not upload the photos to social media for at least a few weeks have been respected so far.

So, all in all, they've felt nothing but cosseted and happy in their private little love bubble. Literal bliss.

But don't believe it's all been water sports and action stations; they've not spent all their horizontal time sleeping or sunbathing. They've whiled away plenty of time in bed, and in that incredible bath, and on the cabana day bed. Harry had promised her some overdue orgasms, after all.

They've spent an awful lot of time talking too; heart to hearts, hashing everything out once and for all, resolving never to have to bring it up again.

It's been truly cathartic for them both, and exactly the alone time they needed to reconnect and repair their broken bonds.

>

On the morning of their last full day, Harry lies sprawled on his front, lying directly on the warm wooden decking. Gripping his phone tightly as he films Eloise moving to and fro below him, he attempts to steady his arms on the ledge, broad frame shaking as he tries to rein in his laughter.

Facedown in the crystal clear water, her shorter wavy blonde hair dances around her head as she kicks her long legs gently, making her pert, tanned bum and lean back break the water's surface. Her outstretched arms gesture excitedly to the brightly coloured tropical fish zipping around her and darting out from the shadows cast by their deck.

But the grace of her easy movement through the water is stymied by her running, garbled commentary. The adorable babbling through her snorkel is interspersed with excited squeals and bubbling laugher. He's almost certain she has no idea she's doing it.

With her head down and peripheral vision obscured by the mask, she can't see him lobbing shreds of a leftover croissant from breakfast into the water, encouraging the fish to flock towards her.

Hearing her joy and laughter, he wishes he had a dozen more.

But when she rears up in shock with a squeal as a large yellow and silver fish battles for a bit of now soggy pastry from against her neck, Harry fails to hold back his own laughter.

Clocking him, as she scrabbles to yank off her mask and snorkel, ready to scold his interference, it tangles in her hair in her haste. "Oh, for fuck's sake, not again", she whines, pouting at him. "Help!". She starts wading through the chest-high water to the stairs back up to their villa.

Having jumped to his feet, from his vantage point above her as she starts to pull herself out the water, he can't help but admire how she can transform, in the blink of an eye, from goofy and cute to a sexy bombshell.

In a white bikini that fits her like a glove and compliments her impressive golden tan, he can't help but think she's reminiscent of Ursula Andress; an iconic Bond girl, emerging sultrily from the sea. Even with a snorkel tangled in her hair.

With it springing up in waves above her shoulders, water pools in her clavicles and draws his eye, naturally, down to her chest. Fuck, how lucky is he?

Breaking out of his daze, he calls out, "Wait, wait! I'm coming in".

Diving clear over her head, by the time he resurfaces, she's perched on the bottom step, ready for him. Swimming back over, he stands and crowds close to help tease her tangled hair out from the rubber strap.

Tossing the mask up on to the deck, he tugs her into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist, groping her bum cheekily as he wades backwards and pulls her in for a kiss. He can't resist.

He only backs off once they're both panting for breath. Throwing his head back he lets out a peal of laughter. "How bloody lucky am I?', he voices it this time. "I love you, so fucking much, baby", he beams at her.

>

After their silly splashing and kissing and flirty groping in the water, they emerged to dry off and agreed to call Manea to request fresh margaritas, to arrive bang on 12pm.

Lounging together on the cabana day bed, Harry had then quickly settled down and grown quieter and more contemplative as the afternoon wore on.

A few hours later, Eloise has her eyes closed, lapping up the dappled sunshine as the breeze off the lagoon, ruffling her hair, delightfully takes the edge off its intense heat.

As she lazily tangles her fingers with Harry's (she'd grabbed them to stop him tickling the tasselled end of the tie of her bikini bottoms against her hip), she grins to herself, struck with the thought - not for the first time - how Harry's hands are a fair reflection of him. Beautifully formed yet unapologetically masculine at the same time; big and broad, yet surprisingly soft, if a little rough around the edges; gentle yet strong; and, oh, so talented.

Unable to resist, he rakes the fingers of his free hand along the slatted shadows striping her long neck, making her flutter her eyes open and loll her head where it rests on his stomach. She grins languidly up at him, "What?".

"What?", he whispers lowly back.

"You're all moony", she teases.

"Can you blame me? Just making a memory...".

"Of what?".

"My perfect girlfriend; right here, at this moment, here in paradise", he offers up a trademarked dimpled grin.

Hiding her blush, she twists to drop a kiss to the centre of his butterfly tattoo, and mumbles against his skin. "God, I don't think I could be any happier or any more content than I am right now", she drawls, sounding blissed out.

There's a pregnant pause as he gently rakes her salty, beachy, tousled waves out her face. "You're the love of my life, do you know that?", he asks softly.

"I do", she nods against his abs, dropping another kiss. "And you're mine... Is that what you've been brooding over all afternoon?", she asks, hoping he'll open up as to whatever is still on his mind. They promised they'd talk it all out here, and then be done with it, but they won't achieve that if he's holding back.

"Just thinking...", he answers with a shrug after another lengthy pause, eyeing her intently.

"About?", she raises an eyebrow, sounding it out slowly.

He can't help but chuckle, secretly loving it whenever she's pushy and won't let him get away with any shit. "You. Me. Us. Our future... I'll never let you go again, you know that, don't you?". His eyes are piercing; that enticing, translucent Coke bottle green again.

"Oh, H! I do-", she answers more softly, keen to provide him whatever reassurance he might need to avoid another wobble.

But he cuts her off. "Oh, God, let me try to get this out...", he rakes a ragged hand over his face.

Now, not quite able to meet her eye, he eases her up off him and sits up, tugging her around to face him. As she unfolds one leg and stretches it between his hip and arm, one of his big hands automatically drops to trace the sharp angles of her kneecap. His other hand fumbles for hers in her lap.

"Baby...?", she prompts again, cautious after his sudden change of energy and demeanour.

Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and looks up at her.

God, he's literally breathtaking, she can't help but think. Those enchanting eyes pop against his deep tan and the gleaming white of his soft, toothy smile.

But, still eyeing her intently, his face soon settles on a more serious and earnest expression. "I mean it, El. I feel like I was in a black hole for four months, and I knew what it was all in aid of...", he shakes his head. "I'll never forgive myself for how that must have made you feel... I hate that I made you doubt me, doubt us".

"H, we've talked that all out... We agreed we wouldn't keep-".

He cuts her off again. "I know, I know! That's done. We're looking forward, together", he recites. "Well, that's what I wanted to ask you...".

"What, baby?", she squeezes his hand in her lap.

Splaying his left hand over his chest, he continues. "I promise you, El, I will do everything in my power to make you as blissfully happy as you are right here, right now, every day, wherever we may be, for the rest of our lives... This is me, making it my mission to make sure your life is as packed full of love and light and kindness and happiness and laughter and rainbows and sparkles...". He grins grows as he adds sillily to his list before tapering off in a soft chuckle.

Floored by his promise and his intensity, Eloise is unable to even blink, let alone break his intense stare.

It's only something catching the sunlight that manages to pull her gaze from his, making her gasp in shock.

She hadn't noticed him surreptitiously drop the hand from her knee to dip into the waistband of his trunks. After another deep breath, his eyes and lips crinkle as he smiles brightly and holds up a ring.

It's exquisite. A large rectangular-cut diamond, flanked by two slightly smaller matching stones, with an intricate plaited setting on a gleaming gold band. It's brilliant and beautiful and sparkly and elegant. It couldn't be more perfect for her.

Thumbing it off the top of his index finger as she gapes, he holds it up as he reaches for her left hand from her lap.

"What-? How-? When-?". Unable to take her eyes off it, the writer is rendered entirely speechless.

He chuckles softly. "I've carried this with me, every single day, since July".

With another gasp, her welling eyes cut back up to his in disbelief.

"First, I was trying to drum up the courage and find the perfect moment... Then it became my talisman; the only thing that helped me cling on to hope in what felt like my lowest and darkest of days", he admits. "And now, I want it to be your talisman; but a happier one... A reminder, all day, every day, of my love for you. And a reminder of my promise, to shower you in love and light and rainbows and sparkles...", he grins as he tails off again.

Her wide, watery, brilliant blue eyes flit between his and his ring, still rendered utterly speechless in a state of shock.

Rising on to his knees, he takes a neat step back as he tugs her up by her left hand.

Eyeing her intently, he struggles to keep a straight face at the whirlwind of emotions playing across her glass face; shock, surprise, panic, trepidation, hesitancy, disbelief, happiness, joy, love, adoration.

Having pulled her up to stand at the edge of the cabana, he takes a big step back, and she lets out a peal of nervous laughter as he drops down to one knee in front of her.

She slaps a hand to her mouth to stifle her inappropriate giggles bubbling up. "Sorry!". 

He laughs too, in response. Shit, she's cute. "Hey...", he whines playfully. "I need that!", he reaches up for her left hand again.

Despite his final deep and steadying breath, both their hands shake slightly as he lifts the ring to the end of her fourth finger.

His smile works through hesitant to soft to dimpled to beaming as he gazes up at her. He's never been so unwaveringly certain of anything in his whole life.

With the sun setting her tousled hair aflame, dancing in the breeze off the sparkling turquoise lagoon, and her white bikini setting off her golden tan, she looks like a goddess. His goddess. He tells her so.

"Eloise, please, just let me adore you, every single day, for the rest of our lives... That's all I'm asking. You have my whole heart and soul already, please take this ring, and my name too, as a symbol of my eternal love for you".

Overcome, he blinks his watery eyes rapidly to clear his vision, letting out a soft nervy chuckle. With another deep breath, he finds his resolve. "Eloise, will you make me officially the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?".

As he slides the ring to the base of her finger he looks quickly back up at her.

With a megawatt smile across her face, she nods fervently, wordlessly.

Chuckling, his shoulders sag in relief. "I'm going to need you to use your words, baby...", he grins. "Just one will do".

She bursts into a peal of joyful laughter and tries to tug him up, but he shakes his head cutely. "I'm not getting up until I've had an answer!".

Trailing her right hand up from his wrist to his jaw, she nods again and again, beaming. "Yes, yes, yes! It's you, H! It's always been you...", she gushes. "Of course I'll marry you! I want to spend forever with you".

Jumping up, he pulls her off her feet and into his arms, whooping with delight.

Wrapping her legs around his hips, she winds her right arm around his broad shoulders and her sparkling left hand up to cup his cheek as she pulls him in for a passionate kiss.

Eventually setting her back down, he promptly bends his knees, dropping his arm behind hers to swoop her straight back up, into his arms this time.

"H!", she squeals in surprise, "What are you doing?".

"Practising...", he smirks cheekily, spinning to head inside. "And I'm going to need to know if making love to my beautiful fiancée is any different than with my gorgeous girlfriend".

"Oh, God...", she laughs, nuzzling her head into his neck, "You're insufferable already!".

She bloody loves it.

>

Later, in bed, he rolls off her and pulls her into the crook of his arm, joining their hands on his still panting chest.

As she twists her hand to gaze at the ring again, he jostles her gently. "You can change it if-".

"No way!", she cuts him off. "This is so perfect. It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. I love it, baby. You did so well!", she beams at him.

"I can't take all the credit", he admits. "Remember for my mum's fiftieth, I arranged that session with a jeweller in Bel Air? Well, this is the setting she designed. For you, for us... She gave it to me back in April and said I just had to choose the type of stone I wanted to give you... Subtle as a brick that one!", he grins fondly.

"Oh, my God", Eloise wells up, "I love it even more now! She has such an artistic eye...", she brings her hand closer, studying the intricate, plaited setting. "So she was in on it then?", she grins.

He nods. "Gem knew as well. And your dad and brothers too... Well, not Lucas; I couldn't trust him not to spill!". He mulls it over, "I think that's why they had such a hard time, thinking I could just abandon you like that-".

"Wait, April?", she joins the dots, distracting him. "The London concert?".

He nods, smiling again. "Mmm-hmm, that's when I asked your dad; showed him the setting and asked if he'd be okay with me choosing diamonds for it". He almost blushes in recollection of how nervous he'd been.

"Oh, my God, and then your final show, in LA! Were you-?".

"I was thinking about it...", he winces a little. "It felt like one chapter closing and another one ready to open; but it was all a bit more overwhelming than I anticipated-".

She gasps, "So that's why they were all being so weird! Whoa, wait, and on stage when you said you had a question, you weren't-?".

"Maybe? For just a split second...", he grimaces before hastily explaining. "But this look of panic crossed your face and I came to my senses... This is just for us, not fifteen thousand people and their smartphones".

She twists on to her side to gaze up at him. "For the record... I'm so glad you did it today, like that. It was perfect, H. You're perfect". She can't resist reaching up to kiss him.

"I'm sorry I didn't get anyone to capture it though", he quirks his lips, huffing softly.

But she only shakes her head and smiles again. "We've got a million memories on film, H. I love that this one is ours alone... I'll treasure it forever".

"We'll have to tell everyone eventually though".

"Oh, I know, and I can't wait to! But let's just enjoy being in this bubble a little bit longer".

After over three years together, then more than three months apart, and now just three weeks back together, it might feel rushed, but not to them. That's been all the time they've needed to reconnect and rekindle their love; both even more grateful than before.

>

Manea surpassed himself again; arranging a private candlelight celebratory dinner on the beach. 

Sipping chilled champagne, supping on the freshest seafood and watching the sun begin to set, they couldn't have asked for anything more.

With their heads bowed close, bodies angled together, and bare feet and hands intertwined, they haven't been able to tear their moony gazes from one another.

After his discrete congratulations whilst clearing their dessert plates, Manea offers to take some photos of them.

Thanking him profusely, they head back to their villa, hand in hand.

>

A little drunk on champagne but positively drunk in love, after a few wobbles, they settle in the double hammock on the deck, with the last of their vintage Dom Perignon chilling in the ice bucket alongside them.

Harry sets them dangerously rocking again as he tries to slip his phone out his back pocket.

He snaps what he's certain is the most perfect photo ever taken.

Eloise's blonde hair is aflame in the last of the brilliantly setting sun, her sparkling left hand outstretched and reaching for the bottle of champagne alongside their hammock. She's not quite in profile, but he captures her bubbling laughter as she sets the hammock swaying again. It's beautiful; brimming with love, hope and joy.

Opening WhatsApp, he quickly creates a new group of their immediate family members. Loading up the photo, he then nudges her for permission before pressing send.

With an even brighter smile, she presses his thumb down to hit send then pins him with a kiss.

They only break apart as his phone almost immediately starts ringing with a group call.

>

After doing the same thing again with extended family, and then their closest circle of friends, they're on the hammock until after midnight, fielding calls and well wishes until his battery dies.

And they can now confirm that hammock sex is not the one. After pulling themselves off the floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter, stumbling, wrapped around each other and pepping kisses with reckless abandon, they finally make it to the bed.

>

With limited patience for foreplay, for once, she tugs at his hair to get his attention, then grapples at his shoulders to pull him back up. "Babe, please, I need you...", she pants, already worked up and in need of grounding.

At risk of floating away himself, he doesn't need her to beg.

After she comes in his lap, he flips them over, and tries to give her a moment to recover, moving his hips in just the slowest undulating roll.

Bracing his weight on his left elbow, he grasps her left hand with his right and thumbs her ring around her finger, over and over.

It's there, she's here, he's hers.

Unwilling or able to let go, he pulls their joined hands up by her pillow, and rebalances his weight, crowding her and kissing her deeply as his hips pick up pace again.

"What?", she asks in disorientated confusion, when he pulls back with a sudden soft chuckle and pauses, dropping his head to her chest, shoulders jiggling with mirth.

"What, baby?", she cants her hips up to get his attention.

"Sorry! I just realised I'm going to get to call you Mrs Styles...", he grins before gasping as she clenches around him. "Shit! I almost lost it... Give me a sec", he pants.

She does it again, quite involuntarily; so hard she cries out.

"Fuck, baby!", he groans, "You're going to finish me off".

"Say it again...", she grits out, pulling his head from her chest to look up at him.

Clocking her sexy smirk and sparkling eyes, with just a narrow ring of blue visible around her dilated pupils, he repeats it slowly; every vowel, consonant and syllable dripping lowly off his devilish tongue. "What? Mrs Styles?", his smouldering smirk almost finishes her off.

"Fuck", she whimpers, clenching again.

"Are you going to come again for me, hmm, Mrs Styles?". He draws it out even longer this time.

"Oh, my God, don't wear it out!", she barks a laugh.

"No chance of that, baby. You promised me forever!", he surges down for a kiss, increasing the tempo of the roll of his hips, chasing their final release of the night.

>  
>

23rd February 2019

Early the next afternoon, Harry started humming a new melody as they took off in the tiny seaplane back to Tahiti for their flight home.

And a couple of hours after taking off from there, he finally pulls his head out of his journal.

He grins at her, self-satisfied, and she nudges him in curiosity. "What?".

"Wrote a song...", he sing songs, smiling bashfully, "And I think I might love it!".

"Ooh, can I hear it?", she sits up straighter again in her luxurious, if a little slippy, leather seat.

"Not all of it, not yet", he shakes his head.

"...Or at least read the lyrics?", she pushes cutely, trying her luck and pawing at his journal.

But he's too quick, too strong. "Nope!", he grins smugly, popping the 'p'.

She relents, but only because she knows he won't be able to help from humming it anyway. He always gets obsessed with new songs and lyrics, intent on testing them out and seeing if the novelty wears off.

She'll just need to listen out and pay attention.

>  
>

24th February 2019

After landing at LAX early the next morning, as the plane taxis to the gate, Harry cuts his eyes from the view outside the window and pulls their joined hands into his lap.

Thumbing her ring around her finger, he hides it underneath before completing the spin and swiping the pad of his thumb over the sparkling diamonds. As he cuts his eyes up to hers, he hides the stones again. "Do you want to keep this quiet for a bit?", he whispers lowly, eyeing her intently.

"Not really...", she shrugs with a smirk. Leaning in to grasp his jaw with her right hand, she angles him closer. "Not when we've just lost four months to pretending already".

"Tell me about it! I feel like shouting from the bloody rooftops how much I love you and that you've agreed to put up with me forever", he grins, leaning in to peck her lips. "But there will probably be paps waiting on the curb outside arrivals. You know the drill...", he adds with a frown as she purposefully thumbs her ring back around, stones facing up.

She stares down at it. "Hmm, well maybe we should try to let family and friends see it in person first, before it makes the headlines? I'm not taking it off though, ever; I won't break that promise... So if the paps see it, they see it, alright?", she shrugs.

Harry spins the ring down again and pulls her left hand up to his lips to drop kisses on the front of her hand, tugging down the sleeve of her jumper. "Sounds like we're running the gauntlet then?", he grins with a raise of his eyebrows.

"With you at my side? Happily". 

A/N: So, there it is... Finally! I'm dying to know what you think!! Oh, and any guesses as to which song he wrote?! Xx


	7. Part G

24th February 2019 (continued)

Harry and Eloise garner a fair bit of attention as they make their way through LAX - relatively busy, even early on a Sunday morning. Despite trying to keep their heads down, their beaming smiles, deep tans and tightly clasped hands don't help their cause much.

After finally retrieving all their suitcases, they're met by a security escort just before heading through to arrivals. With two burly guards in front of them and one behind, they take matching deep breaths as they head through the doors, as Harry surreptitiously tugs her left sleeve down lower.

The few camera flashes and calls of their names by eager-eyed fans inside the terminal are shockingly magnified as they're shepherded outside.

The usual throng of opportunistic paps hanging around outside the airport is heavier than usual, and, having heard the excited shouts from inside, they're already swarming the exit.

Harry tugs Eloise just behind him to help forge a path through the scrum, but the paps soon close in, hollering and shoving at each other to try to get the best shots of their evident surprise reunion.

"Hey, Harry! Eloise!".   
"Over here, guys!".  
"Are you guys together again?".  
"When did you guys get back together?".  
"Eloise, why are you taking him back?".  
"What happened to that other girl, Harry".

Even with the inevitable line of their abrupt questioning, and as they press ever closer and jostle into them, Harry can't quite wipe the grin from his face.

They're all just insignificant anyway. She's back here with him. And his ring's on her finger.

Peeking repeatedly back over his shoulder to check she's okay, despite the look of surprise on her face, he's reassured by the soothing rhythmic stroking of her thumb over his.

Despite the mayhem - and, well, everything else - she's still smiling, and she's not going anywhere.

And, on the plus side, as it's so busy, he figures it's unlikely any of the paps will get a clear shot of her hand anyway.

Finally making it to the black Cadillac Escalade waiting at the kerb, there's a delay trying to get the doors unlocked and the paps surge even closer.

Harry tugs Eloise past him and cages her protectively against the car. Pressed right up against her, they start giggling and whispering to each other.

"What are you two so happy about?", the closest pap chuckles, trying to stand his own and stop from smacking into Harry's back. "Sorry, man", he apologises quickly. "Hey! Stop pushing, you assholes!", he shouts back to his fellow paps.

Finally pulling the car door open, one of the security guards steps back and knocks the pap over. 

Keeping one hand firmly on Eloise, Harry quickly leans down and offers his right hand out to help the guy up before he's trampled. "You alright, man? Is your camera, okay?".

"I'm, okay man, yeah... This is crazy! But that was just an accident. Thanks, Harry, always a gent!".

Huh. A polite paparazzo? Fancy that.

Popping back to his full height and stepping back in front of Eloise, Harry can't help but drop a kiss to her cheek and leans in to whisper in her ear. "Let's go home, baby!".

Once they're safely in the car, as flashes continue popping through the blacked-out windows even as they pull away from the kerb, Harry throws his arm over Eloise's shoulder and pulls her in close.

Finding her hand again, he lifts it to his lips, thumbing her ring back around before he peppers it with kisses.

"One-nil to us", he grins. "This might be fun, sneaking around a bit?".

"You're crazier than I thought it that's your idea of fun!", she laughs exasperatedly.

"Hey! There's no backing out now! Don't even think about it... This did not come with a receipt", he nods at her ring. "You signed up for a lifetime of this madness, baby".

"No, I signed up for a lifetime of you...", she grins cutely before claiming his lips with a kiss. "And if that's part of the deal sometimes, then it's still more than worth it", she shrugs.

Unable to contain his beaming smile, he drops a kiss to her temple and tugs her back against his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder as they look out the window.

Blissfully happy and entirely content, he can't help but start humming the melody to that new song under his breath.

>

When they pull through the gates at his house in the Hills, they're taken aback to see the driveway jammed with cars.

As the driver unloads their bags, they crane around to try to identify them all, then whip back around to face each other, mouths agape in surprise.

Straining, they can just about hear hushed chatter and music from over the side gate.

As their driver reverses back out, Harry smoothly tugs Eloise behind a black Range Rover and crowds her again. "Your family and surprises...", he shakes his head playfully.

"Yeah, this has Ben and Mer written all over it!", she rolls her eyes fondly, arching her neck as he bends to pepper it with kisses.

"Don't pretend you don't want to show off a bit though...", she smirks, draping her arms over his shoulders and pulling him closer.

"Always! But it does scupper my plans to get you straight into bed... I haven't had you naked for a solid, what, fifteen hours now? A man has needs, baby", he whines, pressing his hips into hers as drags his lips from her neck to her lips, swallowing her rueful chuckle.

Too distracted to hear the engine on the drive, they're only interrupted by an all too familiar shout.

"Oi, oi!", Louis calls as he saunters past, holding tightly on to three year old Freddie's hand. "If you don't tell Ben I was late, I won't tell him your feeling up his little sister against his car...", he wagers, sending them a cheeky wink. "Oh, and congrats!", he throws over his shoulder before he rounds the side of the house. "I'll give you hugs when Harry hasn't got a raging boner".

>

After taking a couple of minutes to cool off and lug their bags inside, Harry and Eloise step out on to the balcony, hand in hand.

Seeing so many of their nearest and dearest gathered below them makes their permanent grins stretch even brighter. It's a damn sight happier an occasion than when either of them were last at this house, that's for sure. What a homecoming.

Adele spots them first and hollers up in greeting, turning everyone's heads and setting off a chorus of cheers and congratulations.

"What are you waiting for? Get down here!", Ben calls out. "Oh, and grab some more bubbly out the fridge, won't you?". 

Emerging outside, they're swooped straight into tight hugs, smothered in kisses and showered with congratulations, as everyone gushes over her ring and seeing the two of them finally back together.

First Ben, soon joined by Mer with a babbling Ruby on her hip. It's a full minute before Harry and Eloise try to prise themselves away, but Ruby kicks up a fuss and ends up cutely hanging on to both of them.

Rosie's next, after handing off Jack to Jason. And then Jeff and Glenne; Mitch and Sarah; Tom and Jenny; then Jules, with a wriggling Charlotte.

"You good? That was quick", Louis heckles crudely, "Or did she make you cream your pants?".

Harry shoves him playfully, mouthing "Fuck off" as he bends down to lift an unusually shy Freddie into his arms.

The girls grill Eloise, eager for her to spill the details of the proposal; but, grinning over at him, she remains coy, keen to keep that for themselves. "It was perfect. Just at the villa, in the sun on the daybed. Sweet and sexy and honest and emotional and cute and playful", she shrugs as she looks moonily back over at him. "As if I could have ever said no to that!".

He's sweating for a different reason. Hastily explaining himself to the likes of Adele and James and Rande; insisting he didn't cheat, and apologising for falling off the face of the earth and not having been able to tell them sooner.

After toasts and cheers aplenty for the ever-so happy couple, they all mingle and catch up, sipping on champagne as they pick over an incredible brunch spread.

Harry and Eloise are feeling pretty dishevelled and in need of a shower after their night flight, but it's a casual and relaxed affair. With plenty of little ones milling around - Ruby, Freddie, Jack, Angelo, Max, Carey, Charlotte - they all keep a keen eye on the unfenced pool.

>

By mid-afternoon, the kids - and their parents alike - are all getting a bit fractious and over-tired.

As the others start making a move to head home and try to puzzle the cars out of the tightly packed driveway, Ben and Mer are among those hanging back to help tidy up.

Sorting glasses and bottles in the kitchen, Eloise proffers a half empty bottle of champagne towards Mer.

"Oh, no thanks, Lol... I really shouldn't".

"Go on! What's one more?", she waggles her eyebrows playfully.

"I haven't had any actually...", she lets it hang.

Eloise whirls back around after a beat. "Wait, what?", she eyes her expectantly. "No way, are-?". The party had been such a blur, she hadn't clocked her not drinking.

Biting her lip, Mer tries to try to contain her grin. "I think so... It's only really early days, but yeah, I think so. I've got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday".

With a squeal, Eloise throws her arms around her and spins her around.

"Oh, Mer! Can you never keep your mouth shut?", Ben huffs with a laugh as he emerges back up the stairs with Harry in tow.

"I'm sorry!", she whines. "But just look at her... Look at that happy face! I can't lie to that", she tries to talk her way out of it.

"No way! Is Rubes going to be a big sister?", Harry cottons on and congratulates them eagerly. Pulling back from hugging Mer, he frets. "Are you feeling okay? As if you went to all this trouble for us?".

"It was the least we could do!", Ben smiles earnestly. "We've been invested in you guys since before the very beginning... I cannot tell you how excited we are for you!", he chokes out. "I can't believe you're going to officially be family, H", he grins.

Harry reaches him first, and pulls him into another tight and back-slapping hug. "Well, if that didn't just cement you as Best Man, I don't know what could...".

"Shit, no way!", Ben pulls back in shock and grips Harry's shoulders. "You don't have to... Please don't feel obligated-".

Harry cuts him off. "I want to! There's no one else I want more at my side before she is".

Mer promptly bursts into tears. "Oh, fucking hormones... Ignore me!".

>

Once they head home too, it's just Mitch and Sarah left with Harry and Eloise, and the couples sit cuddled up on the balcony sofas across from each other, catching up.

When Eloise succumbs first to jet lag, snoozing against Harry's shoulder, he carefully leans her over to slide out, nodding his head to the others to follow him inside.

After shutting the balcony door quietly, Harry perches at the piano bench and looks up at them sheepishly. "I, umm, wrote something on the plane yesterday, and can't get it out of my head... Will you have a listen and think about arrangements so we can have a crack at it when we get to Bath?".

Keen to keep it under wraps from her until it's perfect, he keeps his voice soft.

>

"...I'd walk through fire for you / Just let me adore you / Like it's the only thing I'll ever do".

He gets two thirds of the way through before he hears a noise behind him and quickly stops playing to spin around.

With watery eyes and her hand over her mouth in surprise, Eloise leans heavily against the balcony door frame. "Oh, babe... Don't let me stop you-", she snaps out of it.

"No way! Not till it's finished", he shakes his head cutely, offering up a dimpled grin.

Upping the ante, she struts over, straddling his lap on the piano bench and dropping her hands to his jaw to kiss him hotly. "Don't be a tease!", she says around kisses.

Torn between feeling like awkward voyeurs and feeling warmed by the proof of their rekindled love, Mitch and Sarah clear their throats, but it's to no avail.

Harry's filthy groan as Eloise rolls her hips against his makes their minds up.

"Guys, umm, we'll just see ourselves out...", Mitch mumbles awkwardly as they bid a hasty retreat.

Entirely consumed with each other, Harry and Eloise don't even notice until they hear the front door close.

Pulling back and panting for breath, he smirks up at her. "Oops!".

"They were the last ones, right?".

"Yeah, why?".

In a silent but telling answer, she leans forward and lathes at the hammering pulse in his neck as she shucks off his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt then pulls his white tank top over his head.

As she fumbles with his belt and tugs at his trousers and boxers, he somehow manages to swiftly rid her of her clothes as she balances astride his lap.

Leaning forward, he grimaces at the clashing chords as her back meets the keys. "Not sure that's the arrangement, baby".

"Sing me the rest and maybe I'll have some ideas...", she simpers.

"No chance", he shakes his head smugly, chasing her lips with his own.

But her hand dropping between them has him groaning again. "Oh, we'll see about that", she trills naughtily.

>  
>

25th February 2019

The next morning, it's crowded again in the open plan kitchen and living room.

As Harry tries to hastily wrap up a meeting with two property brokers and one of his LA-based financial advisers, all stood around the kitchen island, Jeff leads Tommy and Tom through, ready for their meeting to firm up plans before they resume work on wrapping up the album in a couple of weeks.

A slightly sweaty and dishevelled Eloise emerges from the stairs amidst the throng, taken by surprise in just her co-ordinating sports bra and short shorts. If hot yoga hadn't quite managed to shake off her slight hangover or lingering jet lag, unexpectedly feeling seven sets of eyes land on her seems to do the job.

After pausing mid-stride, she recovers and offers them a sheepish grin before padding silently towards the kitchen.

The thirsty, flirty realtor - ridiculously overdressed for 10am, with a head full of painstakingly curled platinum extensions - eyes her intently. It's blatant and predatorial.

As Eloise reaches behind her to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, she smirks haughtily at Harry. "So... Does the trainer come with the house? Oh, or is she the maid or live-in help, maybe?". Her obnoxious laugh is as fake as her tits.

Scowling at her unprofessional and unnecessarily catty comment, Harry decides his initial reservations about her were spot on. Clocking the pointed tilt of Eloise's head as she pauses behind the fridge door, he snorts in indignation.

"Well, that was rude... And pretty unwise. This bombshell here will have a definitive say in whether we decide to buy in LA again or not... It probably depends upon how many more Golden Globes she plans on winning...". His threat is clear.

Levelling her senior partner with a look, he makes his displeasure known.

Pivoting neatly with a smirk, Eloise plants her left hand to Harry's sharp jaw and makes a play of waggling her ring in her face as she drops a quick kiss to his lips in appreciation. It's a remarkably effective yet silent fuck you.

Harry fails to suppress his smirk and Jeff struggles to conceal his laughter as Eloise arches an eyebrow at the brokers before strutting haughtily off upstairs to shower. 

After they all watch her walk away, Harry addresses Tom and Tommy. "Sorry to keep you guys. Do you want to set up on the balcony? I think we're about done here", he rolls his eyes towards the now po-faced bitch. "Two more minutes and I'm all yours, lads".

>

As Harry steps out on to the balcony, deftly balancing water bottles in one hand, he quirks his brow for them to fill him in on the joke.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen El jealous?", Jeff grins. "That was classily done".

"I think that was more like marking her territory or something?", Harry grins. "But, yeah, I've got no complaints!".

In a sweet and unexpected heart-to-heart, the guys all make a point of telling him how glad they are everything worked out and how he and Eloise are meant to be. It neatly rounds out those tense discussions from Tokyo.

>

When Eloise emerges back downstairs, she's looking stylish but simple, showcasing her figure in a statement high-waisted white skirt with a black ribbed tank top.

The boys, now gathered around the piano, can't help but look on as she moves around the kitchen unaware.

Mentally preparing herself for the emotion in store at her long-overdue catch up with Adele and Rosie, she's distractedly chatting on the phone.

Rummaging around in the hall closet for her heeled black mules, and then transferring her things from her tote to her slouchy black leather clutch, she takes her phone back in her hand, stretching out her neck.

"Mamma Mia Four? Absolutely not! Charles I couldn't be less interested... Well I said no more singing and I can't stand Abba, so... I know, I know, I'm a terrible Swede!", she chuckles lowly.

Looking up, she catches Harry's eye and pokes out her tongue playfully as she listens to her agent. "Whoa, what? Yeah, I'm listening... James fucking Bond? ...No way, really? We'll be back in London this time next week, so I'd be around to meet him... Will you send it over? I'm heading out now, but I can start reading it tonight and get back to you in the morning... Okay, perfect. Chat then! Thanks, Charles".

She grins to herself as she hangs up and tosses her phone in her bag, biting her lip as she struts over to the piano.

Draping her arms over Harry's shoulders from behind as he sits on the bench, she bends down to whisper in his ear. "How much do you love me?".

"Mehh...", he jests, twisting to look up at her with a grin on his face.

Fluttering her lashes, she grins hopefully. "Enough to take the Mercedes?".

"It's all yours", he nods with a matching grin.

"Shit, you two are too fucking adorable... I can't take it!", Tom sasses with a groan.

Harry ignores him and scoots around on the bench to plant his hands on her hips. "You look gorgeous, babe. Where are you going anyway, all dressed up?".

Looking down at herself she shrugs, "Am I? Just trying to show off my tan!". With her bright blue eyes popping against her healthy glow and the smattering of freckles across her nose, her toothy white grin only enhances it more.

Prompting her on his question, he reaches to spin her ring around her finger.

"Oh! Don't fret... Just to Rosie's, but I'm picking Adele up on the way".

"Well, have fun... Oh, and call me if you need a lift later. I'll be around, and don't believe for a minute those girls won't crack open some bubbly to celebrate".

Bending at the waist, she drops a kiss to his lips. "Thanks, baby".

She's halfway to the hallway before his curiosity gets the better of him. Turning back from the piano again, he calls out, "Oh, wait, babe... What was that about Bond?".

Spinning deftly in her heels, she struts backwards as she wiggles her eyebrows at him and smiles coquettishly. "Well, I said Mister Bond... But I'll fill you in later!", she squeals excitedly.

>  
>

5th March 2019

After a few days pootling around LA, hanging out with Mer and Ruby, meeting with a few more property brokers, and generally dodging paparazzi, Harry and Eloise headed home-home, to London. Finally, together.

The media's excitement at their reunion, and rekindled romance, seemed to be winning out over the wild speculation and theories about their time apart. So far, at least.

They encounter a few paps at Heathrow, but nothing like the scale they'd faced at LAX the week before.

The holding hands and long sleeve trick has been working a treat so far, but, aware they're on borrowed time, they're making the most of sneaking around in plain sight whilst they can.

They'd only been trying to hold out until seeing their families first, and hope they'll manage to complete their rounds within the next couple of days.

>

Their first stop was Richmond Park - to Eloise's parents house to pack up her things and collect her car - but they were disappointed to arrive and find the house empty.

Understandably, Harry found it pretty disconcerting to be confronted with the extent to which she'd settled in back home in their time apart. But plenty of reassuring touches and kisses served to remind him of everything they have since overcome.

Still failing to get hold of either of her parents, they focused on sorting her things and heading home to Hampstead.

>

More promisingly, Eloise squeals with excitement when they find his mum's car parked on their drive.

But it's tempered, somewhat, when they bundle into a quiet house, only to find a handwritten note from her on the marble island in the kitchen.

'Welcome home, lovebirds! Meet me in the pub next door for a glass off bubbly at 6pm ish... Lots of love xo'.

They look at each other with matching quizzical expressions.

"Is she up to something?", Eloise quirks her lips.

"Oh, without a doubt!", Harry scoffs before leaning down to drop a kiss to her lips.

>

After lugging their suitcases upstairs, they have just under an hour to shower and get ready.

"Do we have time?", Harry paws at her almost bare hips as the shower heats up. "I promised myself, that if I managed to get you back in here, I wouldn't waste a minute showing you what you mean to me", he says sweetly.

"You don't need to keep trying to make it up to me, H. We agreed to draw a line...". She reaches up and hopes to reassure him with a kiss, trying to convey the depth of her feelings.

With a flustered expression after she pulls back, his lips dazedly try to follow hers until she lifts a hand to his jaw, halting his progress. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. I promise... And, besides, what I have in mind is way more deserving than a quickie... Just you wait until later, Mr Styles!", she smirks before stripping off her underwear and swinging her hips teasingly as she steps into the shower.

>

Reunited with her wardrobe, she eventually settles on a black floral print mini dress and black ankle boots. Whilst the damp, sleety weather outside suggests she should opt for tights, her legs won't stay this tanned for long, so she bravely forgoes, but snags his leather-trimmed black Crombie coat from the walk-in wardrobe and drapes it over her shoulders.

He's looking sharp in boots, black jeans and a white silk shirt, with his camel suede shearling collar bomber.

Grabbing their charged phones and a key, they bundle close as they head around the corner on foot.

Elbowing each other as they clock a few familiar cars in the dark car park, they can't help but trade knowing grins as they slip through the front door as surreptitiously as possible.

Dave, the friendly landlord, steps from around the bar to greet them with hugs. "They-, err, your mum, is in the back room... Head straight through".

Pausing in the hallway, out of sight of the door frame, Harry steps to Eloise's right hand side and reaches down for a quick kiss. "Act surprised!", he reminds her gamely.

"I think I can manage that!", she grins, pecking him back.

Ironically, they seem to take everyone else by surprise, and Harry has enough time to stash their coats on a chair before anyone seems to realise.

"...Ahhh!".  
"...Oh, shit!".  
"SUPRPRISE!".

By the time a couple of champagne corks fly, everyone in the room realises the guests of honour have arrived and the chorus of cheers only grows in volume.

All of their immediate family and some of their very closest friends are squeezed into the back room of the large pub. With a log fire licking at the grate and flickering candlelight from every table, the soft lighting picks up the gold foil helium balloons tethered to the back wall spelling out 'LOVEBIRDS', and the metallic streamers adorning every light fighting and picture frame. It's even cosier and more inviting than usual.

Harry and Eloise make a good play of feigning surprise, but everyone's so distracted, too taken with seeing them together and clocking the sparkle of her ring, that they probably needn't have worried.

There's a beat of surprised silence when Elin is the first to reach them. In a surprise move, she throws her arms around them both and promptly bursts into tears. Totally taken aback, they're relieved when Crispin wraps his broad arms around all three of them, holding them tight.

As he has a quiet moment with Harry, and Elin busies herself trying to find a tissue, a bemused but moved Eloise takes the opportunity to step away and embrace Anne tightly, promptly joined by Gemma.

"I'm so, so sorry if I came between you...", she whispers.

"Nonsense, that wasn't on you. And it's all forgotten anyway, now that you're going to be one of us!". As they squeal and coo over her ring, a teary Anne adds, "God, I'm so relieved to finally see that where it belongs".

"I cannot begin to tell you how much this means to me, that you-", Eloise begins as she wiggles her finger admiringly, but Harry inadvertently cuts her off, throwing his arms around them all and jostling them playfully in sheer excitement.

Continuing their tag-teamed hugs and greetings, as Eloise leaves Harry whispering with his mum and sister, she's pulled into Ollie's arms.

Next, she spots Des and makes a beeline for him, only for Harry to soon join them.

From there, she flits between the rest of their family and family friends; Malin, her godparents, Harry's London-based cousins, and Michal and Chloe too.

Afterwards, she's swept into Charles, her agent, then off her feet by Niall. After he introduces Hailee, Eloise then spots Liam and makes a fuss, cooing over Bear. Adam and his wife are there too. And Nick and Alexa as well.

Twirling again, Eloise belatedly laughs as she rebounds into Harry's chest, but he's quick to swoop her up tightly as they laugh.

There are cheers and camera flashes aplenty when he pulls her in for a kiss; her sparkling left hand splayed on his jaw.

From there, it remains a joyful, disorganised and slightly discombobulating swirl of hugs and kisses and congratulations and gushing, and asking about the ring, and the proposal, and even wedding plans.

"Oh, God, we haven't even had the chance to think that far ahead!", Harry laughs them off, eyeing Eloise intently, as if just remembering there's a whole raft of fun in store beyond the engagement celebrations.

Platters of food emerge from the kitchen in an attempt to soak up some of the bubbles.

When Lucas arrives late, having jumped on the train from Bath after training, Harry ensures to clear the air with him and Ollie. But Crispin had already clued them in; no need.

Whilst Eloise is tied up with their mums, Harry makes a point of chatting with Charles and, still curious after her phone call the other day, tries to work out how much work she might have missed out on.

But, never one to miss much, Eloise intervenes and tugs Harry aside, giving it to him straight in the hopes of reassuring him once and for all. "Yes, bloody Magnus derailed things because I couldn't go out and actively hunt down new roles and opportunities. Then, yes, everyone's entitled to some holiday and downtime every once in a while", she raises her eyebrows in challenge, then sighs. "And, yes, I need to get back into the swing of things... But that doesn't mean I need to drop everything else! I've learnt some lessons about a bit of balance and what, who, is important in all this...". She looks up at him with wide eyes, adding quietly, "I'm not going to let that go because Charles is chasing his commission".

His ears must have been burning, because Charles collars her and can't resist talking a bit of shop, keen to set a few things up now she's back from all her travels. "So, Knives Out; the murder mystery? I did some digging, like you asked... They've lost their young female lead to a scheduling conflict, but they're all set to shoot in Boston from May, so they're starting to panic. Daniel Craig himself threw your name in the hat, and he's being pretty persistent about it! I'll set something up for later this week, okay?", he grins hopefully.

Eloise can't help but feel excited. Resolving the Magnus threat, and getting more than back on track with Harry, then having been unexpectedly travelling for the last month, everything has felt a bit like a paradigm shift of late. She realises quite how much she's looking forward to locking down some plans in the near future. There are huge decisions pending; like where they'll live, when they'll marry, and how she's going to get her career back on it's rapid trajectory.

With a gulp of champagne, she focuses back in on what Charles is saying.

"...You'd be wrapped with plenty of time before Killing Eve kicks off again in August", he reassures her. "And this could be huge, El... If you're on Daniel's radar already, this could bode really well for potential discussions about Bond!".

"I'm sorry, did you just say James fucking Bond?", Ollie gasps loudly, fully ready to start fan-girling after overhearing whilst chatting with Crispin and Harry. "Tell me everything, now!".

Eloise, looks coyly up at each of them, grinning behind her glass of champagne as she takes a coquettish sip.

It's big. Potentially huge.


	8. Part H

7th March 2019

After their surprise party, Harry and Eloise spent a day settling in back at home and hanging out with Anne, then awoke early on Thursday morning, ready for a busy day of meetings.

It's her first direct look seeing businessman Harry in action - he with his own record label imprint, various licensing, publishing and touring companies, and extensive investment and property portfolios.

And, yeah, CEO Harry absolutely does things to her.

Having been jovially chatting as he set about making coffees beforehand, he impressively centres himself by the time they all take their seats, soon showcasing both an enviable laser focus, and a startling clarity of thought and communication. Cool yet commanding, deliberate yet decisive.

Mature - for the most part - and an old soul, it's incredibly easy to forget that he's just twenty-five. But, in reality, he's been hard at work for almost a decade already; learning the ropes and successfully navigating a multi-faceted career in a weird and wonderfully complicated industry.

From his seat at the head of the dining table, Harry charmingly commands the meeting, the room, and all his elders within it; two senior partners from an exclusive property brokerage firm, plus his financial adviser, investment manager and lawyer.

Eloise, Anne and his assistant, Emma, round out the table.

>

After neatly explaining their brief, budget and timeline - and making a point to include Eloise and check if his mum has any suggestions - he eventually draws the meeting to a close.

Once Emma sees their guests out, they top up their coffees and chat with her and Anne for a bit, before they both soon head out on errands of their own.

"I'll be back in half an hour or so. Text me if you think of anything else for the shopping list whilst I'm out". Anne bids them goodbye over her shoulder as she follows Emma out the door.

As soon as it closes behind them, Eloise rounds on Harry.

Dropping her mug to the marble worktop with a clatter, she pivots neatly to face him and hooks a finger into the belt loop of his smart navy trousers.

Stepping closer, she runs her hands up his defined torso over his crisp white shirt; first over his pecs and then past the meat of his shoulders, before crossing her straight arms behind his neck and pulling herself flush against him.

Wasting no time at all, she reaches up and finds his lips in a needy, heated kiss, swallowing his surprised groan.

Taken aback, he discards his coffee too, before wrapping his strong arms around her, pulling her closer still.

Gasping for breath, he cranes his neck back and lets his groan taper into a chuckle. "Fuck! Not that I'm complaining, at all, but what's got into you?", he grins, tugging at her hair to tip her head back to expose the long column of her neck to him.

"Businessman you is so fucking hot, baby", she pants, squirming against him. "Every time one of them called you Mr. Styles I had to cross my legs tighter", she admits, biting her lip.

"Fuck", he groans, pressing against her, trying to find some friction.

"And, God, when you introduced me as your fiancée?".

"Yeah? I knew you liked that; could see you shifting on your seat... Too damn obvious, baby", he chuckles lowly.

"Me? You're such a tease!", she giggles exasperatedly, knowing resistance is futile.

But, with just a little nip against her pulsing jugular, she comes back to her senses. With a whine, she rolls her hips into his to distract him as she leans back, away from his descent, lathing open-mouthed kisses from her ear towards the tops of her breasts. "No! No hickeys, not before my audition".

"Now who's a fucking tease?", he growls hotly, already thoroughly worked up.

As she takes a wobbly step back, he follows her, keeping them pressed flush together.

With a neat pivot of his own, he swaps their positions and crowds close, pressing her against the edge of the countertop. After disengaging from her lips again, he cranes back to check the time on the clock on the wall.

"Your Mum will be at least another twenty minutes...", she grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

"When are Charles and Melissa due?", he checks.

"Not for another hour".

"Quickie?", he smirks.

"Quickly", she barters back, nudging him back with another roll of her hips, making them both groan.

"Come on then, lead the way, my beautiful fiancée".

"I can feel you perving at my bum you know", she throws over her shoulder, swaying her hips playfully for good measure.

Reaching for her hand before she can cross the foyer to the stairs, he tugs her back into his chest and palms her hip as he guides her towards his office instead. "More fitting, no? I want you on my desk...".

"Oh, fuck me", she practically drools.

"Gladly. Consider it done".

>

With her wavy bob - still stubbornly sitting above her shoulders - notably more tousled than before, she lets her talent and literary agents in and heads into the living room for their meeting.

Charles knows Harry pretty well by now, but Melissa is still a little starstruck. Not least when he bustles in with a tray; evidently having decided upon champagne instead of coffees. "Oh, don't look at me like that!", he sasses the three sceptical looks thrown his way. "We have a mountain to get through after the celebrations... And don't pretend you industry types aren't absolute lushes anyway!".

After Melissa gushes over the ring and their happy news again, Harry heads smoothly back to the door. "I'll be in my office if you need me, babe", he throws her a cheeky wink.

>

With her Knives Out meeting and audition with Daniel Craig later that afternoon, the discussion, for now, centres around Killing Eve.

Her head had admittedly still been all over the place last month, but Eloise had really struggled to finish the script for the third season, and she's still not quite happy with it, despite Netflix's seal of approval.

Wanting to get on the front foot, she breaks the news to her agents that she thinks Villanelle and Eve might have run their course. She'll be eternally grateful for the opportunity, platform and recognition the show has given her, but she can't bear the thought of it fizzling out sadly. She'd so much rather go out with a bang on a high.

Her Netflix deals had some fairly straightforward extension options that had already been taken up, but the acting and writing contracts don't correlate exactly.

Given their popularity, it's likely Netflix would commission a fourth series before the third even premieres, so they'll only have a few months to negotiate. In preparation, Charles pushes her to envisage a feasible scenario where she might bow out from writing the fourth series but still have to act it. Could she commit to bringing her own character to life via someone else's imagination? If not, would she feel strongly enough to knuckle down and muster up a fourth series script she'd be happy with? Or, will they need to try to get her out of it entirely once she wraps filming the third series in January?

They advise her to mull it over and sleep on it. And, honestly, it might hinge on the outcome of some decisions later today anyway.

>

"Mum! Come on, we need to leave or we're going to be late", Harry calls up the stairs in an attempt to hurry her up.

Grinning at the panicked squeal from upstairs, Eloise shushes him from where she applies lipstick in the hall mirror. "We're okay, we've still got a few minutes. We shouldn't hit rush hour".

"It's always rush hour in central London, babe", he steps closer and drops a hand to her hips, palming the supple leather of her mini skirt. Pairing it with a fine knit roll neck (no thanks to him), tights and suede pointed ankle boots, her all-black get-up makes her blonde hair, bold blue eyes and sparkling ring pop against what remains of her Polynesian tan.

When Anne interrupts Harry's teasing kisses low on Eloise's cheek, just shy of her lips, he suspects it's intentional as she sasses at him. "It's James fucking Bond, Harry! Cut me some slack".

"You look amazing", Eloise smiles sweetly, reaching for their coats in the hall cupboard.

Anne wipes a tiny smudge of Eloise's lipstick off the very corner of Harry's lip with a roll of her eyes. "Come on...", she chuckles. "You can be as moony over her as she was over you all morning", she tuts, continuing as she heads out the door towards the Range Rover. "It's a good job I think you're both adorable, I tell you...", she chuckles ruefully.

Eloise cut her wide eyes to Harry's in surprise as she grabs her bag and follows her out the door and can't help but wonder when exactly she returned home earlier. Oops, totally busted.

>

After parking easily nearby, they're relieved to see no paps are lurking outside Claridge's.

Smoothly opening both doors as they bid them a good afternoon, two liveried doormen provide a sneak preview of the grand hotel's legendary service from the off.

Then they're all immediately taken aback by the hushed elegance within. Dancing over the distinctive black and white tiled floor of the Art Deco lobby, Eloise's eyes cast longingly up the sweeping staircase, curious as to the glamour no doubt beyond.

But she's interrupted from her daydreaming as a woman calls her name, already approaching with her hand outstretched.

She introduces herself as Daniel's assistant. "They're in The Fumoir bar", she gestures to the left of the lobby. "Here, let me show you through".

Harry reaches for Eloise's elbow. "We'll wait in there", he nods to another bar opposite. "Good luck, baby", he pecks her cheek. "Break a leg".

>

The choice of bar bodes well for the styling of the film.

Moody and discrete, its old-school cues lend perfect 'Whodunnit?' vibes. All wood panelling and rich leathers, it offers classic cocktails with outlandish twists, oh, and a Hollywood heavyweight, sitting waiting for her.

Eloise's first thought, as he jumps up to greet her, is that Daniel's shorter than she'd realised; probably just an inch or so taller than her, but a few less in her heeled ankle boots. Shit, why didn't she think to check? She can only hope he's not put off by it. Disappointingly, she's already starting to lose count of the number of actors that have been.

Next, she's struck by his piercing blue eyes. Naturally. They're positively otherworldly.

"Wow, I'm not sure I can quite look either of you in the eye", Rian, the writer and director, quips, softly spoken as he is.

Daniel immediately clocks her ring. "Whoa! Well, this looks very shiny and new. Are congratulations in order?", he smiles brightly. "Mr. Boyband evidently has good taste", he adds smoothly as he casts his eyes over her.

Slightly struggling to separate charm and old school manners from something possibly a little more sinister - especially when he literally has a daughter her age. "Oh, um, it is, yes", she smiles softly, trying to resist the temptation to play with her hair as she starts feeling nervous. Evidently, she goes for word vomit, instead. For fuck's sake. "Very actually. We're going to see how long we can keep it quiet for... And he really does, in jewellery at least!".

As the diamond catches the light from the flickering fireplace alongside them, quickly entranced, she has to snap herself out of staring at it.

It feels both oddly foreign and yet like it's always been there.

Daniel chuckles as she startles, meeting his eye again. Grinning guiltily, she sighs in relief as the waiter hands her a drinks menu. "Ooh, an Apricot Fizz please!", she decides quickly and smiles up at him. "Or do I lose points for not ordering a martini?", she quips to Daniel.

He leans close with a conspiratorial smirk. "I'm not much of a fan myself, to be honest", he waggles his Negroni. "Anyway...", he nods back at her ring. "I do hope he's got it as bad as you?".

"Oh, God!", she can feel herself blushing. "Well, you can be the judge of that later for yourself if you want. He's in the other bar with his mum and my brother. We're having dinner here later". Why can't she stop babbling? Jesus, zero chill.

"I have to say, how long we'll keep you is kind of up to you, Eloise", Daniel knuckles down to business, pinning her with that intense gaze. "I've had my eye on you for a while, and really love everything you've done so far".

Rian jumps in. "We're in a real pickle, having just lost our Marta, but we really think you could bring something special".

After they tell her more about the film, and the wider cast, Eloise can only hope her flush at their flattery has subsided by the time Rian whips out his phone to start filming as Daniel sidles his chair closer to hers.

With a steadying quick gulp of her cocktail, she wills herself not to lose it at Daniel's wildly exaggerated accent as they run lines.

Feeling grateful for Harry's help practising with her last night, she's relieved that their chemistry feels pretty effortless, and she likes Rian's style of direction too, and appreciates how Daniel's ad-libbing would make for some fun on set.

>

Soon enough, they say goodbye to Rian, and Daniel leads her through to the main bar.

Harry, Anne and now also Ollie sit gaping as she nears closer, chatting happily to Daniel, holding on to the crook of his arm. She appears, to all intents and purposes, as cool as a cucumber.

As the pair approach their curved smokey blue booth, they awkwardly shuffle out and greet them, with Ollie banging his knee as he tries to unfold his bulky frame in his haste.

Daniel quickly wins them over and sets them at ease, with a display of quick wit, ribbing them for their choice of martinis.

>

Making his apologies, Daniel leaves soon afterwards, telling Eloise he'll be eager for her answer tomorrow.

"How on earth are you so chill?", Ollie gapes at her in disbelief.

"It's called acting, you muppet", she rolls her eyes and promptly reaches for a swig of Harry's drink as she turns to look over her to check the coast is now clear. "Oh, my God!", she turns back to them, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "That was James fucking Bond...!", she squeals excitedly.

After she gives them a quick rundown, Harry tips his glass in a toast. "You're going to take it, aren't you?", he grins proudly.

"I'll wait for the offer, but I think I'd be pretty crazy not to", she admits. "I really liked them both. The rest of the cast is insane, and the script is razor-sharp... Oh, and it's only shooting for a month, in May".

Despite her pleas not to jinx it, they continue toasting her new role over dinner as they all gush over the one and only Bond, James Bond.

>  
>

15th March 2019

That Sunday, they flew to Rome for Harry to shoot the new Gucci fragrance campaign and another pre-fall tailoring campaign.

Meeting up with Jeff and Harry Lambert, who had both flown in from LA, they were based back at the luxurious Hotel de la Ville, where they had stayed at the beginning of their Italian road trip holiday exactly two years ago.

After early mornings and late nights, being ferried to and from the hotel to various locations an hour or so outside the city, they spent a lot of time hanging out with the wonderful Harris Reed.

It was fun, relaxed and bohemian; the vibe an ecstatic, orgiastic bacchanalia. It couldn't have been more Alessandro Michele.

He tried to convince Eloise to get in front of the camera too, but she held firm.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure she'd ever felt so ordinary, amongst such an eclectic and beautifully diverse cast. But it was Harry's gig, and she was perfectly content to just watch, lapping up the jovial atmosphere as she tried to sit quietly and get a little work done.

Then, after five days prepping and travelling to various locations, he'd successfully wrapped his third and fourth campaigns for the fashion house.

>

Returning to Alessandro's atelier, they'd spent the today in and out of fittings.

He and Harry are co-hosting the Met Gala in May - a huge deal - and they really need to get cracking on their outfits.

Alessandro begs for Eloise to let him dress her too.

As if she could attend the event on Harry's arm in anything but Gucci?

He'd obviously be thinking about it for a while, and, as soon as she conceded, had whipped out a few rough sketches. 

A structured mini dress in the most incredible mirrored glitter-ball sequin fabric, adorned with a pussy bow and irresistible flounces and ruffles to lend texture and soften its tailored edges. It's remarkable.

And just about blingy enough to contend with her ring, Alessandro had joked.

>

Later that evening, walking from the hotel to the restaurant, they do battle with heavy traffic darting around Rome's frenzied streets.

On a Friday night, the pavements are almost as busy too, and it doesn't take long before Harry is spotted by fans.

Amidst the mêlée, he keeps Eloise close as he interacts with them, trying out some of his fledgeling Italian whilst snapping photos with the group of teenage girls.

She tries to keep things discrete, but they're fascinated, and soon start shrieking as they clock her ring. When their camera flashes start popping in a frenzy, Jeff steps in from where he'd been hanging back with Harry Lambert and explains they need to leave, bundling them away.

>

It's a marked change when they arrive at an unassuming small restaurant and pick their way carefully down the uneven stone spiral staircase. With gasps of surprise, they emerge to a cavernous stone basement. Formed by a myriad of little archways packed with barrels and wine racks, it's lit entirely by hundreds of flickering candles. It's magical.

Over a wonderful, lengthy dinner, Alessandro probes on their wedding plans.

Despite protesting that they've not had the chance to think that far ahead just yet, he presses. "Well, what better time to start? I love weddings!", he claps excitedly.

He's not lying. As he probes and questions, Jeff eggs him on, piping up about timings, work commitments and promotion for the new album.

Soon enough, everyone in their party is excitedly chipping in ideas for potential venues.

Touched at their excitement, if slightly bemused, Harry and Eloise try to keep up with all their eager suggestions.

There are a lot of Italian options floated, naturally.

Among the ruins of Canale Monterano or at Montecalvello castle, both of which were beautiful, partially ruined venues used for the shoots.

Glen, the photographer, reminds Harry how taken he was with the cascades, frescos and fountains of Villa Lante, where they shot the Gucci Cruise tailoring campaign last year, complete with all those adorable baby farm animals.

Alessandro volunteers his homes at the drop of the hat, espousing the virtues of the magical hilltop setting of Civita di Bagnoregio.

His long-term boyfriend, Vanni, mentions their friends' upcoming nuptials at an incredible villa on the outskirts of Rome in late September, for which they had just disappointingly received a note of cancellation after a scandalous surprise break-up.

Harry Lambert moots Rome's famed Borghese or Tivoli gardens, but anywhere with public access that's not possible to book out entirely would be problematic.

Getting swept up themselves, Harry and Eloise are soon chipping in ideas too.

A Midsommar themed celebration at her Swedish family's holiday home on a remote island archipelago.

Oh, or one of the trusty Soho House properties, like Babington House, maybe.

Or Spain's Balearic Islands - Formentera or Ibiza or Mallorca.

Ooh, or somewhere in Central Park, which they both adore.

Or perhaps someplace overlooking the beach in Malibu.

The options and endless possibilities and considerations soon make their heads spin...

But, they're crystal clear on what they don't want. Nothing too big, or at a soulless wedding venue, or an identikit repeat of Ben and Mer's - gorgeous as it was - at her parent's house.

The guests will be mostly from the UK, with a fair few Americans, some Swedes, and some token Italians, of course.

Oh, and they're not keen on a years-long engagement either; because, why wait? Why waste any more time?

Hmm, much to think about...

But when Alessandro, uncharacteristically shyly, asks if they'd consider letting him dress them both for their big day... Well, that they don't need to take any time to think about.

>  
>

16th March 2019

The next morning, as they're driven to the airport, Harry spots a sign and asks the driver to make a quick detour.

It's the villa Vanni had mentioned last night. And it's absolutely stunning.

On the off chance, they pile out and the delightful owner is happy to give them a quick tour.

It's still available on the 28th of September. And Harry's excitement is palpable. "That's just four days after our fourth anniversary! Ooh, and perfectly timed between your blocks filming Killing Eve, right? And it would allow for a two-week honeymoon before the first single will be released from the new album", he rambles on. "Oh, my God, babe... Are we doing this?!".

"Whoa, H! We'd need to check our families can make it at least...", however infectious his grin, she tries to remain the voice of reason.

"I daresay they'll free themselves up!", he rolls his eyes playfully. "Well, let's see what the deposit is...", he suggests, looking around for the owner again.

But she's quick to tug at his sleeve and hit the brakes. "Holy shit, cool it, Casanova! I love that you're so excited, but this is a little insane, H... We don't have to decide right now or rush this quite so fast", shaking her head, she lifts her hands to his smiling cheeks to peck at his lips.

"You can't blame me for wanting to seal this deal as soon as possible, El", he grins cutely.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby! I really, really want this too, but we need to think this through... I don't even know if six months is doable? Don't people plan weddings at least a year out? And look at all these steps...", she gestures around them. "What about your grandad's wheelchair? I love that you're so excited, but let's just take the details and think it over, okay?".

But she's not entirely sure he's listening. Not if his goofy walk with silly, rolling arm movements is anything to go by; nor his playful leap to knock his heels together as he jogs ahead to open the car door for her.

>

Landing back at Heathrow early that afternoon, they thought Rome's Fiumicino airport had been bad.

Well, almost as bad as Harry's fledgeling Italian, Eloise assumes. Those fans evidently wasted no time posting their photos from last night, including her ring, straight on to their social media. And, oops, it would seem the cat's out the bag.

But, they're truly taken aback as they emerge to a frenzy of paparazzi outside Heathrow's arrivals terminal. It's chaos.

There are some scant shouts of congratulations, but the line of questioning is broadly more demanding, abrupt and intrusive.

"Show us the ring!".  
"When did you propose?".  
"When did you get back together?".  
"Why did you break up?".  
"How can you forgive his cheating?".

Eloise is soon separated from Harry in the scrum, and he has a moment of worry as he catches her getting overwhelmed in the face of two burly paps blocking her path and keeping her from him. She appears rooted to the spot in panic, physically recoiling from their shouts, intrusive questions, camera flashes and tugs at her clothing.

"H, don't! I'll go back, just get in the car", Jeff shouts in warning.

But he's no match for Harry's strength or his instinctive need to protect Eloise.

Wrenching his arm from him, Harry only adds to the mayhem as he takes the other paps by surprise, rounding against the tide to muscle his way through them to her.

Clocking her stunned rictus grimace, erratic breathing and trembling frame, as he gets closer, he realises her wide blue eyes are locked on one of the paps. He's big and burly with close-cropped fair hair.

It takes him a beat to realise. Then, even he has to do a double-take.

Calling her name increasingly loudly, desperate to avoid startling her in front of so many popping camera flashes, it's only the soft trail of his fingers down the inside of her forearm that snaps her out of it.

With a gasp, she fists a hand into his jumper holding on tight as he steps closer. Dropping one hand to her hip, he gently steers her back until he once again has her caged safely in his arms, this time with her back against the terminal building.

"Oh, my God, did you-?... For a second, I-... Did you-?", she stutters, gaping up at him.

"Baby, it's not him... You're okay, I promise".

He grunts as the crowding paps press closer, surging into his back. "Come on, can you give us some space, please?", he calls over his shoulder.

"Shit, sorry! I panicked", she worries. "But, fuck, he looks so like him", she can't help but stare at him again.

"I get it, baby. I'm sorry for this madness, but you're okay; you're safe. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you", he promises; reassuring her his top priority, despite the situation.

When a hand lands on his shoulder he shakes it off aggressively, enraged at their lack of boundaries, but it turns out to be a uniformed policeman. Security and help have arrived.

Thank God; this is the worst he's seen it for a long while.

Taken aback clocking a high-vis uniform, Eloise's eyes dart to the scene over Harry's shoulder and she gasps again, as if only just realising their predicament.

Turning around, he steps back into Eloise, pressing her into the wall as he twists to speak into her ear. "I've got you, baby. Just do not let go of my hand, okay?".

"Thank you", he addresses the policemen. "Can one of you get behind her and keep them off her? Don't let them touch her, please; they can't touch". The desperation and seriousness in his voice are evident.

>

Eventually bundling into the Mercedes van waiting at the curb, they flinch at the continued shouts and flashes.

"Fucking hell, that was ridiculous", Jeff growls in frustration. "El, you can't let them separate you like that", he admonishes, trying to shake off his stress.

But Harry cuts him off. "It wasn't like that", he defends her. Clocking her frown, he scoots closer and wraps a protective arm around her. "You're okay, baby. It wasn't him, El, I promise you". He reaches up to drop a hand to stroke her hair soothingly. "I've got you, you're okay", he coos, cutting concerned eyes to Jeff over the crown of her head.

His queen. He'll do anything to protect her.

As he whispers reassurances and drops kisses to her temple where her head rests against his chest, her breathing eventually slows to echo that of his calming heartbeat.


	9. Part I

16th March 2019 (continued)

Despite their unsettling run-in with the paps at Heathrow, Eloise was adamant they shouldn't change their plans.

So they have Jeff drop them en route as planned, before he continues on to the Hampstead house with their bags.

They dash into Twickenham just in time for a much-needed drink before kick-off at 5pm. England versus Scotland, the final game of this year's hotly-contested Six Nations tournament.

Harry's bodyguard is ready and waiting for them at the entrance. It would be impressive that he's there so promptly, after getting his text just an hour ago, but he's just that good, and local, and a huge rugby fan to boot.

A part of their inner circle by necessity, he greets Eloise with a fond hug, happy to see them reunited. He'll be spending more time with them than ever.

With lessons learned from the Magnus debacle, and another fitting reminder this afternoon, Harry has a fresher and more mature outlook on security now. He's sworn off the high-jinks of old - trying to give his detail slip, or getting frustrated at them cramping his style - and now resolves only to appreciate them. Security is absolutely no joke, and has to be a top priority now.

>

After a riveting first half, the painful second half sees Scotland take a surprising lead as a rankled and increasingly frustrated England team lose focus.

Much to Eloise, Harry, Crispin and Elin's frayed nerves, England near the end of the match with a huge job to do. Scraping a draw against their long-term, lesser yet scrappy, rivals from the north would be embarrassing enough, but losing would be unthinkable.

Lucas has had a particularly gruelling game. Marking off a mountain of a man - who at almost 6'8", manages to make even him look almost puny in comparison - he's been scrapping at the fringes, rucking and scrummaging with a not so quiet fury. The exhaustion is borne across his muddy face as he hollers again, attempting to rile up his teammates to dig deep and turn the game around. He has his eye on the vice-captaincy and knows the head coach will be all the more expectant of him when the chips are down.

Ten minutes from the final whistle and ten points down, he's definitely feeling the pressure. The gobby Scottish scrum-half has been in his ear the whole game, generally whining at the referee, and trying to cause trouble.

Already on his last nerve, when he starts laying into him again, making shitty, inflammatory comments, Lucas sees red and can't help but lash out. Popping up from his position at the back corner of the scrum, he grabs at the neck of his jersey, with a few sharp words to put him back in his place. Looming a solid six inches taller and a couple of stone heavier, the 5'9" little shit quickly pales at Lucas' less jovial side. But, in an instant, blue and then white shirts pile in and a scuffle quickly breaks out.

It's Ollie that manages to muscle in and haul Lucas off the small Scottish player, getting in his face and shoving him back and telling him, in no uncertain terms, to cool off, amidst jeers and cheers from the 80,000 strong crowd.

The media find the handsome brothers irresistible, so it's no surprise when one of the stadium cameras zooms in and projects their tense exchange live on the big screen, before another cuts to Crispin in the crowd - with Eloise and Harry alongside him - grim-faced and shaking his head in disappointment.

The referee had seen Lucas start it, and it takes his very best hurried sweet-talking to only just avoid a yellow card. Having someone sent off would have been the nail in the coffin for England's hopes.

With all the players pumped up again, the next re-start is thrilling. But it's cut short when Lucas gets his comeuppance; soon targeted by that man-mountain in an outrageous tackle that manages to be both high and spear - around his neck, and then tipping him up in the air before dropping him to the ground.

Boos and gasps immediately abound, not least by the Cadogans, shocked and horrified to see him lying in a crumpled heap, unmoving.

When already running at speed, sixteen plus stone of muscle hits the ground with the impact of a car crash. When the head, neck or back is in question, things can look bleak, pretty quickly.

But, as with all professional players, Lucas has been painstakingly trained in the art of taking tackles - especially dangerous ones - and has just enough of his wits about him to know not to move a muscle.

Ollie, again, sprints over, outpacing the doctors and medical buggy heading on to the pitch. Kneeling worriedly over his brother, he pops his head up and orients himself to where he knows his family will be in the stands and signals with hand gestures; he seems okay, but head down now.

They don't waste any time gathering their things, and Harry gets a stark lesson in how dangerous the game can be.

With every precaution taken as he's loaded on to a stretcher and then driven off the pitch, Crispin and Elin follow worriedly into the bowels of the stadium behind Lucas and the team attending to him. Eloise and Harry hang back, just inside the tunnel, watching on.

Looking back to the pitch, they see Ollie high-five Lucas' replacement, before he and the vice-captain try to rally the troops, as the substituted captain paces nervously at the sidelines.

Agonisingly, England leaves it to the very last minute to bring the score back level to scrape a draw.

Having ducked and danced in a thrilling run halfway up the length of the pitch, shrugging off and deftly stepping out of tackles, Ollie offloads the ball one-handed to his right-winger to help secure the last gasp try and subsequent conversion kick. It's a thrilling end to the match, and a testament to his cool head, to be able to channel his worry over Lucas into getting the job done.

Similarly focused, he shrugs off the sports reporters flocking towards him after the final whistle, and jogs straight inside to join the rest of his family at Lucas' bedside.

>  
>

18th March 2019

After getting organised and repacking again on Sunday, Harry and Eloise are due to head to Bath on Monday morning, but an intriguing call from their property broker gives them good cause to delay setting off for a bit.

It meets the brief and has great potential, and isn't yet on the market; but after an enquiry, the owner is open to offers. It's just down the road; quite literally. Oh, and the neighbour could be open to discussion too, giving it incredible potential. Huge, really.

They can't resist going to take a look.

>

In the meantime, Crispin drives a cranky Lucas up to Hampstead to save them detouring to Richmond Park to collect him.

He's like a bear with a sore head, literally.

They'd anxiously hung around at the stadium for long enough to hear the doctor's initial reassurances, but Eloise had then kept in touch with her parents into the evening, to keep tabs on him. His scans came back clear, thankfully with no damage to his neck, but he failed the head injury assessment and was diagnosed with a suspected concussion, ruling him out of training and playing for at least the next two weeks.

It's a stark reminder of the real danger of the sport; not least the ongoing worry of the damage of cumulative concussions. Rugby is stringent about safety, but there's no getting around it being a risky career choice.

It's Harry's first sight of anything but a garrulous and comedic Lucas, and, if anything, it only makes him all the more intimidating.

Eloise is more used to this side of his personality, but it takes the shine off her excited mood after the house viewing and brings back the worries from last night.

The injury precautions mean he can't drive himself for at least a few days. But, serendipitously, they'd been planning to head to Bath today anyway, where he has lived since university and now captains the local professional rugby club.

Crispin and Harry trade wary looks as Eloise and the battered and bruised Lucas start bickering as they load the cars.

"How long's the drive?", her dad asks, cheekily tugging at his collar, as he waves off Harry - who just turns towards his Range Rover before he lets slip an unwelcome chuckle.

At her snippily accusing him of foisting trouble upon himself, he snaps. "Oh, give it a rest, Lol... Last time I checked, you've never had to front up to testosterone-fuelled fuckwits like that for over an hour with a sister who bloody looks like you, have you?". The slam of his car door ensures they're clear it was a rhetorical question.

Clocking her jaw-dropping as Harry grits his, Crispin tries to dispel the tension.

"I'll see you in a few days to drop his car down", Crispin leans down to press a kiss to Eloise's cheek. "Try not to kill him so soon after such a close call, alright?", he grins. "Go easy... He's a brute, but he'll always be near the front of the line to defend your honour".

"But I didn't ask him to! And certainly not if it literally puts his neck on the line...", she protests in dismay.

With a deep, steadying breath she takes a step towards Harry's car. "Give me fucking strength!", she mutters lowly for his and Jeff's benefit before dropping a quick kiss through his open window.

"Remember I need to stop for petrol. They've just landed, so I said we'll pull into the back bay at arrivals; we should be able to time it well", he offers, leaning through the window for another kiss before she jumps behind the wheel of her car.

>

Harry needs to finish up the album, but, once again, is keen to escape London and the paparazzi and press attention still rife after their reconciliation.

After collecting Tom, Tyler, Mitch and Sarah from Heathrow, they head down the M4, towards Bath.

As they drive through the Chiltern Hills towards the West Country, the three Americans are taken with the picturesque countryside and charming, chocolate box Cotswolds villages, and Harry calls Eloise to suggest they stop for lunch in the picture-postcard village of Castle Combe.

>

After another quick detour for Eloise to drop an uncharacteristically quiet but appreciative Lucas at his house, they press on for another ten minutes or so, navigating the country lanes to arrive at the sprawling yet charming recording complex - Peter Gabriel's Real World Studio.

In a sleepy little village, it might not be tropical like Jamaica, but it's just as beautiful in its own way, and should more than meet the brief of getting them away from any distractions.

Still stretching themselves out after almost three and half hours driving, they're greeted and quickly given a tour. Harry and Tom have been here before, but it's new to the others.

In stunning rural surroundings, it's as much an idyllic artistic retreat as a feat of high-end audio engineering.

Inside it's all quirky rooms - some cavernous, some intimate - with industrial fixings juxtaposed with soft textures, and crammed full with instruments, technical wizardry, and heavenly acoustics.

It's luxurious, yet homely and cosy too. With six quaint bedrooms in the main house and a private one-bedroom cottage in the grounds, in the evenings, they'll spill from the restaurant-quality kitchen to the sprawling living room and games room.

By day, they'll hole up, recording and mixing in the Big Room. It's a vast open space with a sunken floor, but the focal point is the huge glass windows spanning one long wall, stretching all the way up to the apex of the ceiling. Natural light pours through and it provides a breathtaking view of the tranquil millpond right outside and lush gardens beyond.

Harry can't help but grin knowingly as Eloise, transfixed at the view, wanders straight over, dropping her bag on the window seat, staking her claim in a quiet corner. Well, quiet for now.

Their collective excitement bubbles over as the others all head straight for the control room and soundboards, checking out all the equipment and instruments.

Still hanging back, surveying them all, Harry is the first to spot the new arrival.

A sprightly sixty-nine, Peter Gabriel is just as enthused to see the musicians' collective excitement.

After a round of introductions including the studio's engineers and technicians that will be helping them out, it's Harry that suggests it.

Peter humours him, and within a couple of minutes, they're putting the sound system through its paces, blasting Sledgehammer - one of his iconic hits - at top volume.

They all sing and dance around excitedly; including Eloise, to Harry's surprise.

"What? It's one of my dad's all-time favourites! I know this inside out and back to front".

They both blush and grin stupidly when an amused Peter points out how good their voices sound together, even just goofing around.

>  
>

22nd March 2019

That Friday morning, Crispin arrives in Bath to drop Lucas' car off and stay for the weekend. Eloise has to head back to London briefly for a couple of meetings on Monday, so will drop her dad back on her way home.

Making their way down the lane and through the park, Eloise and Sarah head to the charming local pub -The Queen's Head - early, ostensibly to nab a big enough table.

Bustling through the door and hastily pulling off their coats, scarves and hats, they're soon chatted up by a pair of bumbling mud-splattered country gents, complete with several boisterous spaniels at their wellington boot-clad feet.

With their soft English accents, boots and suitable attire, the girls may look the part, but they're decidedly younger and more glamorous than the pub's usual clientele.

"Ooh, now don't tell my Cynthia, but I have to say, you ladies are the prettiest to have ever set foot in this sleepy old pub", one says with squinty, smiley eyes and a rolling West Country burr.

His friend quickly chips in with a knowing, jaded tone. "Would you look at that ring? I'm not sure she'll be interested, Bob...".

"Heavens, I've never seen anything like it!".

"Well, I'll have you know our little village is suddenly quite the place to be", Bob continues. "I heard there's some heartthrob musician recording at Peter's?".

Eloise just about keeps a straight face, but they're still prattling on charmingly when the bell above the door rings again.

A smirking Harry soon saunters over, followed by the rest of the lads; but the old boys neither recognise him nor pay him any heed, beyond just a quiet grumble about younger competition.

When he reaches across from behind her to drop his phones and wallet on the table, Harry pecks a kiss to Eloise's temple. "Fancy wine? Anything for your new friends?".

They're more taken with his good manners and kind offer than any whiff of global superstardom.

However, when the door jangles again and Crispin and Lucas bundle through, they're beside themselves. The hometown rugby hero and his legendary father. It's all a bit too much.

But it's refreshing for Harry's ego, and Eloise and his friends won't let him forget it, despite him sitting there, shaking his head, perfectly content to go incognito for once.

That two such heroes among men then insist on heading back to the studio after lunch, keen to see Harry in action, goes some way to repairing the damage. But they all know Crispin was probably really just hoping to meet Peter 'Sledgehammer' Gabriel himself.

>  
>

27th March 2019

When Eloise returned from London the following week, she was still a little skittish and trying to avoid hearing the songs in their entirety, and certainly not as an almost complete album.

Uncharacteristically, she'd been the reluctant one, this time.

Hearing his new music for the first time always slays her.

But, this time, after all the pain of their time apart, then their sudden reconciliation? She's not quite ready to relive the raw emotion of all that again, quite so soon.

She's loving spending time with Harry, and all the guys, of course. And gets a kick out of seeing the outpouring of creativity whilst they're so in the zone, but that doesn't mean she needs to hear it all and be confronted with it all again. Not yet.

Much like the week before, she takes up residence on the window seat, tapping dutifully away on her laptop with her noise-cancelling headphones on.

Harry gets it, and won't pressure her, but, curious at seeing her tugging at her lip, deep in thought, sidles over to peer over her shoulder.

Ah, the draft of the wedding guest list again. He's been the one adding more and more names.

"Eloping is looking more and more appealing!", she quips playfully, shooing him back to work.

>

Late that afternoon, she's still engrossed in her laptop, when a wadded up ball of paper startles her, bouncing off her head to land on her keyboard.

Looking up and tugging her headphones out, she realises the room has emptied out.

Harry's grinning at her from across the room - smug about his ever-impeccable aim, no doubt. Perched at the edge of the sofa with one phone between his ear and shoulder, he beckons her over whilst typing on his other phone.

Deftly climbing to sit behind him on the sofa, she then tugs him back to lean against her chest. He crowds her into the plush cushions as she cranes her neck forward to try to listen in; but, even wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer, she still can't quite make out who it is.

"That's incredible news! Thank you, Simon... Yep, I'd be happy with that figure for the offer; conditional on surveys and planning checks, of course... Let me know once you have something in writing and I'll forward it to the lawyers and fund manager to give them a heads up to start the paperwork". Quickly hanging up, he tosses his phone aside.

"Ooh, baby, you know what it does to me when you talk business...", she chuckles throatily in his ear, tightening her long legs around him.

Laughing, he runs his hands over them as he presses back, jostling her playfully into the sofa. "That neighbour is very, very interested as well... It's looking like we might manage to get the two houses!".

"No way! Really?", she gasps in shock. Quickly reaching for his jaw to tilt his head back, she tries to reach his lips, but the angle doesn't quite work.

Pressing kisses instead to as much of his upper back and neck as she can reach, she hugs him tightly. After a beat, she whispers, "I think I'm ready...", giving him a squeeze.

"I should hope so! I just to agreed to a combined offer with eight figures", he sasses.

Snorting a laugh against his t-shirt, her mind can only boggle at that kind of money. "...To hear your new songs", she clarifies, after a beat.

"Really?", he twists around in her hold to eye her carefully. "Are you sure?".

"As much as I'll ever be", she shrugs with a soft smile. "I'm so excited to hear them, but just brace yourself, alright?", she bites at her lip, conscious of her previous form faced with his new music. "Don't say I didn't warn you!".

"Oi, oi!", Tom heckles as he pokes his head back into the room, juggling three mugs. "You done? Thought that might have been your therapist as it's Wednesday afternoon?".

"Eighty-eight inches is all the therapy I need right now, mate", Harry smirks lasciviously, running a hand from each of Eloise's hips all the way to her sock-clad toes, still crossed around in front of him.

"Don't you quote Pretty Woman at me, you rom-com nerd!", Tom quips, rolling his eyes.

"They are though, I've measured them!", Harry protests weakly before Eloise cuts them both off.

"If anyone needs therapy, it'll be me, after listening to these new songs... Don't think I won't blame you a bit too, mister", she jokes at Tom. "Come on then, before I lose my nerve", she tips forward, wrapping her arms around Harry's chest and nudging her hips, until he staggers ungainly to his feet with her still clinging to his back. "Where are we going?".

"Shall we bundle up and sit by the pond?", he suggests. "It's pretty with all the lights on".

"Oh, Christ, you big sap! Ever the romantic...", Tom sasses, sitting back at the soundboard as the rest of the guys file back in.

Eloise only squeals in farewell as Harry bends to pick up phones and headphones on the way out.

>

Snuggled up on the bench by the millpond, he gives her a nervy preamble. "It's still only about eighty percent done; there's a fair bit of mastering and mixing still to finesse... But I really need you to hear it... I tried to be really honest with myself, and I'm really proud of it, but, God, some of it gets me, so I'm really sorry in advance if any of this hurts... But if anything is too much, El, I won't release it, I promise, okay? I need you to be comfortable with all this... This is your record as much as it's mine".

What on earth can she say to that? With a deep, steadying breath, she takes one of his AirPods and twists to face him, reaching for his hand.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the bright, happy and optimistic tone of Golden takes her by surprise, and an uncontainable smile breaks over her face as she starts nodding along to the surging beat.

After getting a little distracted by the irresistibly warm, sun-drenched tone to his voice, she falters when she clocks the lyrics.

"Golden, golden, golden / As I open my eyes / Hold it, focus, hoping / Take me back to the light / I know you were way too bright for me / I'm hopeless, broken".

Shit, is that how she makes him feel?

Having been watching her keenly, he sees the realisation flood over her features. "I guess it stemmed from the fear of being ruined by someone... Knowing something's incredible and one of a kind and loving it, but being a bit terrified of it at the same time", he admits, rubbing at his neck.

But there's something hopeful in it too, about opening up and committing. "...Loving you's the antidote".

Track one? Oof.

"Can I listen to it all first, rather than telling you what I think track by track?", she asks, leaving him squirming with nervous anticipation.

There's a moment of levity as he throws his head back and guffaws as her realisation of what Watermelon Sugar is about.

"I guess Only Angel then Kiwi walked so Watermelon Sugar could run, huh?", she sasses, dancing around in her seat to the irresistible groove. "Well, it's a fucking bop, but my brothers will murder you, for sure".

"Hey, it's only about blissful happiness and not being able to get enough of each other", he gives her a cheeky, shit-eating grin.

"Oh, good luck!", she snorts a laugh of her own.

He then fumbles the phone quickly after a curious instrumental intro. "Ah, that one's, umm, not ready for you yet...", he explains cryptically as a blush colours his cheeks.

"I think this one might be the first single though", he cues up Light's Up.

It's curious and unexpected, but she loves the message. "Let me guess... Self-reflection, identity, belonging? Maybe a dig at fame?".

"Ding, ding", he leans forward to drop a kiss to her lips.

Then, he casts her a knowing look and blows out a long breath, and she knows to brace herself.

Cherry is undoubtedly beautiful, but it hits her like a sucker punch.

"Don't you call him 'baby' / We're not talking lately / Don't you call him what you used to call me"

"...I, I confess / I can tell that you are at your best / I'm selfish so I'm hating it".

Is-? What-? Wait-? Her confusion is written all over her face.

He jumps in, to try to explain. "It's like an imagined heartbreak, I guess? I'd sometimes play a shitty game with myself, imagining you'd have moved on... And you'd have had every right to-.

"But, I didn't", she says flatly, adamantly. "You do know that, don't you?".

"Oh, baby, of course, I do-".

"But everyone else listening won't! It'll sound like...", she cuts herself short, reading in his face just how much he loves this one. She changes tack, "Well, it's definitely powerful... It somehow makes me feel guilty for something I haven't even done?".

They eye each other warily for a beat, both trying to infer what the other isn't saying.

She breaks first and nudges him, "Go on, keep going".

Holy shit, she wasn't ready.

"I'm in my bed / And you're not here /  
And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands".

"Forget what I said / It's not what I meant /   
And I can't take it back / I can't unpack the baggage you left".

"What am I now? / What am I now? /  
What if I'm someone I don't want around? /  
I'm falling again / I'm falling again / I'm falling".

"What if I'm down? / What if I'm out? /  
What if I'm someone you won't talk about? /  
I'm falling again / I'm falling again / I'm falling".

Falling absolutely floors her. It picks her up, chews her up, and spits her right back out.

"...And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again".

Fuck.

"...What if you're someone I just want around?".

The words and sentiment are brutal, and the melody haunting, but it's the tone of his voice that gets her. Truly desolate and heartbroken. She knows without a doubt this was him plumbing the depths of a downward spiral, riddled with guilt and regret.

What if she hadn't taken him back? What if she had moved on quickly? What would that have done to him? Fuck, it terrifies her.

The tears streaming down her cheeks, as she sobs and splutters for breath, prompt a few of his own. And, soon enough, he calls a time out.

Standing on slightly wobbly legs, tugging her bonelessly up and under his arm, he leads her back to their little cottage for some more privacy, intent on them just bunkering down alone for the rest of the evening.

>

Shucking their coats and outer layers, they fall straight into bed, burrowing under the duvet in a tangle of limbs, cuddled close.

Swiping at her subsiding tears, he whispers repeated apologies as he presses kisses to the side of her head.

"Don't be... That was fucking beautiful, but God, it hurt to hear", she sniffles, twisting up to find his lips in a snuffily, soggy, needy kiss.

"That one's the toughest, I promise", he tries to reassure her. "It lets up a bit soon".

With a dramatic, rallying wail as she scrubs her hands over her face, she flips on to her side and offers him a weak smile. "Okay, hit me".

"To Be So Lonely and She were about thinking how I'd ever try to go about getting over you. They're a bit tragic, actually", he offers her a small, rueful smile.

"And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch who can't admit when he's sorry".

"...Don't call me 'baby' again / It's hard for me to go home / Be so lonely".

"...I just hope you see me / In a little better light / Do you think it's easy / Being of the jealous kind?".

"She / She lives in daydreams with me / She's the first one that I see".

Her jaw drops at the guitar solo, making Harry laugh. "I know you hated the mushrooms thing, but they did Mitch some kind of psychedelic favour with that one, let me tell you!".

"It's like a Mitch Rowland featuring Harry Styles track", she elbows him with a smirk.

"And I'm totally okay with that! I cannot wait to see him shred that on stage", he grins, showcasing that healthy ego again.

Sunflower Vol. 6 and Canyon Moon feel a little lighter and brighter. Reminiscent and reflective; more positive, more hopeful.

Almost every lyric throughout each paints a vivid picture of some beautiful memories between the two of them. Both songs are loaded with meaning in a way that no one else could ever quite understand. And she loves them for it; she loves him for them.

"I'm pretty sure you'll always leave me a bit tongue-tied, baby!", he can't help but grin.

"Sunflowers / Sometimes / Keep it sweet in your memory / I was just tongue-tied", he sings back softly. "Quite apt for that proposal too, actually", he reflects.

Treat People With Kindness takes her totally by surprise. It's a little bonkers and silly, but joyful and meaningful. She loves it, instantly. It's just so, well, Harry.

"I wasn't sure about it for the longest time", he admits, "But it's grown on me, massively... Might love it more if you'll help with the backing vocals, though?", he grins cutely. "Come on! I need a little bit of you on the album again, just for me? My lucky talisman", he smothers her with kisses, intent on overwhelming her into agreement.

Eventually, he plays her a few others, and admits he's not sure they're quite right, or that they quite fit, and asks for her honest opinion.

Fall Apart is pretty and loaded with aching sentiment, but it's too raw and just hurts too much. How would he ever be able to get through a performance of that? Quite.

Similarly, Already Home and Have & Hold are stylistically a bit different. Simpler than the other songs, they're sweet and hopeful ballads, but they don't feel quite right for this album, and are, perhaps, a little too personal? He nods and says they'll be theirs alone.

He's already decided to hold back 5,378 Miles, but wants her to hear it anyway. If only to know just how much he thought of her whilst they were apart, that he resorted to comparing distances on Google Maps. He still can't quite get his head around Tokyo being almost exactly equidistant to LA as it is to London.

He wraps things up with Fine Line, as he intends to on the album. "I really love this one, actually... I'm just really proud of it".

"Test of my patience / There's things that we'll never know / You sunshine, you temptress / My hand's at risk, I fold".

"...We'll be a fine line / We'll be alright".

He clues her in. "It says 'we', but it's about 'me'. It's singular".

She has him play it again.

God, this man? His mind?

"Like talking to two versions or halves of yourself...?", she ponders aloud during the second play.

"It's about knowing yourself, and accepting yourself, and loving yourself?", she checks. "Fuck, Harry, that's beautiful...", she can't help but beam at him, swiping at spilling tears. Hers and his.

Happy ones, this time. Proud ones.

Whilst getting lost in his eyes, she mulls it all over.

Given the highs and the lows of the last couple of years, it was always going to be his most emotional work yet, but there are some really weighty themes. Love, loss; happiness, despair; dependence, separation; hope, guilt; longing, regret.

"I've never heard anything quite like it, Harry... It's going to be a masterpiece. The lyrics are so open and poised; the melodies are irresistible - some feel haunting, others are still dancing around in my head, already. And, God, the musicality and production? It's genius... You're a genius".

"Thank you, baby. That means everything, you saying that... But sleep on it, okay? Listen to it again in the morning if you can face it. If there's anything you don't want published, just say the word, okay? Promise me?".

Rendered speechless, she nods.

"So, umm, we'll be alright then?", he nudges her with a cheesy grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, I daresay a bit more than alright...", she rolls smoothly on to her back and pulls him with her.


	10. Part J

4th April 2019

Some good news had Harry heading home to Hampstead a couple of days early.

Now tinkering with layers and mixes, in the deep end of mastery and production, they've recorded almost everything - barring a final few sessions coming up in London next week, to replace some synths with horns, strings and choral sections.

So, for now, and sensing his excitement, the guys insisted they could get by without him for a few days and happily shooed him off.

>

Having waited to set off until after the rush hour, it's after 10pm when he finally arrives home.

Stepping through the front door to a surprisingly dark and quiet house, he peeks his head into the living room and gym but comes up empty.

Hastily downing a banana and bottle of water in place of dinner, he locks up and sets the alarm.

Hefting his bags back over his shoulder, he takes the stairs two by two, keeping light on his feet to try to maintain the element of surprise.

But, peering around their bedroom door, he's surprised to find it dark and empty as well. Hmm?

He's just about to call out, when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and clams up. Not entirely sure if it's out of concern or just the anticipation of her being close by - well, somewhere - he piles his bags by the mirror in the corner of the room, before skirting quietly around the bed.

Dropping a hand to the ensuite door, just slightly ajar, he stills to listen out before pushing it slowly open.

Leaning silently against the doorjamb, he has to pinch his lips between his teeth to stop from making a sound. Shit, she's cute.

Eloise is in the deep tub, almost overflowing with towering bubbles, and surrounded by flickering candles. He can't help but smirk when he clocks the scent - similar to the spicy tobacco and vanilla of his Tom Ford cologne. With a calf resting over her bent knee, she distractedly flexes her foot, dipping in and out of the water. A frown mars her forehead as she gnaws on her bottom lip, eyes flitting across the page of the script in rapt attention.

Just catching him in her peripheral vision as she folds over a page, her reaction is dramatic, to say the least.

With a shriek of surprise and a double-take cricking her neck, her flailing arms toss the script into the air just as her foot slips and she slides down, submerging beneath the bubbles. The resulting splash douses the candles around the edge of the bath, extinguishing the only light in the room, to suddenly engulf them in pitch black.

She re-emerges spluttering. "Fucking hell! Please... Turn the lights on, quick!", she whimpers.

The strained tone of her voice suppresses his automatic bark of laughter at her dramatics. Quickly finding the light switch, he ups the dimmer to low before striding closer "Sorry, baby! It's just me".

Dropping to his knees in front of her, he swats away her sudsy hands to gently swipe the bubbles from her eyes and face whilst raking her hair back. Clocking the heaving of her chest and still-startled expression, he frowns before leaning forward to drop a kiss to her forehead. "Fuck, I really scared you, didn't I? I'm sorry".

Plucking the soggy script out the bathwater to drop it on the floor with a splat, she shudders. "Don't be, it was a grisly fucking horror anyway". The distaste is writ clear across her expressive features.

"Oh, God, now I feel even worse!", he grimaces, chuckling flatly.

Intent on making it up to her, he's already popping back up and reaching to pull his shirt over his head, before getting to work on his fly and toeing off his socks.

After folding over to tug down his trousers and boxers in one fell swoop, he smirks cheekily, "Budge up, then".

Hissing as he steps into the still-hot water behind her, he sits and bends his legs up either side of her hips before pulling her back to lie against his chest.

With one hand on her cricked neck, massaging softly, his other snakes over her chest, pausing to feel her still racing heart and cop a quick feel, before sliding down to her hip in a tight hug.

"Sorry to give you a fright. I thought you'd be expecting me?".

"I must have lost track of time", she shrugs, automatically twisting to crane up for a kiss, but he holds firm on her neck in warning.

With his other hand at her hip, he nudges her over to land on his chest. He'd claim it's just to save her already cricked neck, but he won't complain about all the delicious skin to skin contact.

"Hi!", he grins, cutely.

"Oh, hi! I didn't see you come in!", she jests before leaning up to swallow his laugh with a kiss.

Mumbling muffled words as they trade eager kisses, their lips never entirely part.

"Exciting about the house!".

"Mmm, very".

"I missed you".

"It's been four days!".

"Four days too many".

"So needy".

"I am needy".

"Mmm, I know, I can feel just how much against my hip!", she smirks into his kiss.

"You missed me too".

"Did I?", she teases.

"Well, those candles smell pretty familiar...".

Yeah. she can't refute that one. Instead, she sets about distracting him, in the very best way she knows how.

>  
>

5th April 2019

Harry and Eloise both jump out of bed the following morning with a spring in their step.

An early offer on the LA house fell through, but the London broker's negotiating appears to have been more successful. Both owners are very interested and open to the figures on the table.

Bubbling with excitement, they follow the broker, Simon out their front gate, hand in hand, to walk literally just around the corner, to view both houses.

To have found an incredible home after just a few weeks of looking is lucky. To find it so close to home, not yet on the market, and with the potential to knock through into the neighbouring property to make it their dream home, is nothing short of remarkable.

It's beautiful; a white stucco-fronted classical Georgian design, with perfectly symmetrical features and big sash windows. Offering incredible living and entertaining spaces - including an orangery stretching the width of one of its halves - the rooms are all generously sized, with high ceilings and lots of natural light. It's packed with beautiful original features, but is in need of some modernisation.

They don't even bother trying to rein in their excitement in front of Simon, and are both fizzing with ideas, envisaging all the myriad ways to best use all this amazing space.

The possibilities are endless.

>  
>

10th April 2019

With both of their legendary focuses set on the same task, they make quick progress.

By the middle of the following week, with conditional offers ready to be signed, they return again with a team of prospective architects, interior design consultants and project managers in tow, wanting to sense-check that what they have in mind would be feasible.

Knocking the two adjoining homes through, to be one big house again, would allow them to redesign the floorplan.

It quickly dawned on them they'd be gutting, remodelling and designing their family home.

A forever home. Their forever home.

It's so exciting, but quite the undertaking.

The structural work would be simple enough, with just a few walls to knock through on each floor, but centralising the utilities and updating the electrics, plumbing and heating are pretty mammoth jobs in and of themselves. So, whilst they're at it, they can consider other bigger changes too.

Which side gets the better morning light for the kitchen?   
Which bedroom has the best views deserving of the master suite?   
Which bedrooms have enough space for ensuite bathrooms to be added?

Safety first. Harry insists they'll need top of the range security systems and a panic room, plus a self-contained flat in the basement for nighttime bodyguards.

There's plenty of room for a self-contained nanny flat as well, and a granny flat too, for that matter.

Harry's ears perk up again at the suggestion of digging down for a huge subterranean garage for his car collection. Finally, he'd be able to house all his babies together.

But the one thing that wouldn't need much work is the garden.

Other than tearing out the dividing wooden fence and laying a strip of turf, both sides are already pretty immaculate.

There's even an outdoor pool on one side and an indoor pool on the other - double the luxury, in London.

With adjoining wide terraces in matching grey stone, there is also a pretty pergola, outdoor fireplace, and the most incredible wisteria-bedecked archway leading into a fragrant rose garden.

Whilst chatting with the contractors, Harry loses sight of Eloise, but eventually finds her in the garden.

Sneaking up on her, he can't resist plucking a rose for her. The pink hue is one of his favourites - almost a perfect match for her lips.

"H, you can't do that! ", she scolds quietly, looking around to check if anyone saw.

"It's literally our rose bush, babe... We can do whatever we want!", he grins cheekily.

"Not quite yet, don't jinx it!".

"Both owners have pre-agreed the conditional offers, and there's no way we're backing down, so it really is looking like a sure thing, El". There's a broad smile across his face as he looks back up at the houses.

But she only has eyes for him right now. Struggling to find the right words, she can only pull him in for a kiss.

"Jesus, look at that smile! My angel", he beams, pulling back after a final peck. Looking around he adds, "Hmm, you like this do you?", running his hand over the ornate wooden archway.

"I do! Really... I do", she eyes him pointedly, biting her lip.

"Oh!", he looks back up and around. "Are you thinking...? Here?", he checks, smile already growing.

"Right here", she simply nods, smelling the beautifully scented rose he'd plucked.

Eloise immediately had her heart set on it for the wedding; picturing the whole thing as soon as she laid eyes on the archway and smelt the roses, literally.

"We have no idea how long the house renovations will take just yet...", he warns gently.

"But out here is already literally perfect, exactly as it is! ...So why wait?", she shrugs, unable to contain her bright smile in her excitement.

"Wait, are you thinking this year?", he checks again.

"After everything Jeff was saying about your schedule next year, and with your tour planned to run until next October... That feels like a really long time to wait".

"Well, I don't want to wait either", he grins, turning to face her and lifting his hands to cradle her face. "So let's do it! Before the end of September".

Now she is genuinely speechless.

That's two huge, life-affirming decisions, taken pretty effortlessly, in the span of just a couple of minutes.

Once again, all she can do is kiss him hotly.

>  
>

6th May 2019

Needless to say, the lawyers jumped to it and the deals progressed quickly. After the all-clear from the surveyors, both houses were officially theirs, and building plans for the renovations were soon firmed up and submitted for all the formal approvals.

Managing an enormous property development and a big wedding in parallel, with both on crunch timings? Oh, and throw in the small matter of co-chairing the biggest event in the global fashion calendar, finalising an album, and an imminent movie shoot too? They must be mad.

And, in case they weren't busy enough, wedding planning quickly ramped up in earnest too.

Everyone they spoke to initially laughed in their face at their five and a half month timeline.

But it amused them to see how quickly the wedding planners and all the assorted suppliers jumped on board.

The name Styles is evidently pretty compelling in itself, but upon hearing the location and wedding dress were already in hand - two of the biggest stressors - they'd all practically bitten their hands off, desperate for the job.

But, after a daunting, frantic, exciting couple of weeks, Harry and Eloise had to leave the property developing and wedding planning in trusted hands, and get back into work mode; swapping hard hats for something altogether more glamorous.

>

They flew to New York on Thursday, the second of May.

Whilst Eloise then made a quick trip to Boston for a few pre-production meetings and fittings for Knives Out, Harry had some Met Gala business to attend to.

He'd kind of figured "co-chair" was just an honorary, nominal title. But, faced with several meetings and schmoozy dinners beforehand, he found himself wishing he'd taken more than a second to respond when Alessandro asked him last Autumn.

At the time, he hadn't quite appreciated just how big of a hoo-ha it would turn out to be.

>

Officially, it's the 'Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute benefit gala'. A sartorial extravaganza always held on the first Monday in May, and presided over by the formidable Anna Wintour, with her cherry-picked army of elite Vogue staffers.

Once again, its five hundred and fifty tickets are just about the hottest in town. Well, in the world, actually.

This year, the Gala is co-sponsored by Gucci - which explains Alessandro and Harry's involvement as co-chairs; and, as a bonus, means the eye-watering $35,000 apiece for their tickets was waived.

The boys' other co-chairs are Anna Wintour, of course, Lady Gaga and Serena Williams.

The theme is 'Camp: Notes on Fashion themes'; essentially about wildly exaggerated creative expression, fusing elements of both high culture and popular culture.

It's not 'fancy dress' per se, but, generally speaking, attendees dress in the style of the exhibition's theme, and celebrities wear designs by the brand that invited them and are accompanied by the designer on the red carpet.

>

In Boston, Eloise had to stay on for the pre-shoot dinner to meet the full cast and it ran later than she'd envisaged, so she ended up moving her car booking to 6am this morning.

They'd made good progress before, inevitably, getting held up in the rush hour. But, having been stuck in a jam on the I95 and then in gridlocked traffic around the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge, Eloise arrives back to New York City later than intended.

Gucci has taken over the six-bedroom penthouse suite at The Mark hotel on Madison Avenue, just a few blocks from the grand Metropolitan Museum of Art's perch at the edge of Central Park.

When the bellboy sees her to the top floor, the lift opens and she's taken aback by the frenzied atmosphere.

It's only just after 11am, but anyone would be forgiven for assuming they're just about to be ushered out the door. It must be all the excitable Italians.

"Ah, she's here! She made it, finally!", one of Alessandro's assistants calls out, looping her arm in his as he breaks into quick-fire Italian, issuing orders to someone, somewhere.

There's a flurry of activity in each open doorway they pass. Jared Leto, Florence Welch, Dakota Johnson, Saorise Ronan; each surrounded by a bevvy of stylists, make-up artists, hairstylists and assistants.

Just as she finally lays eyes on Harry through the door of the far bedroom, she's engulfed in bangle-clad arms, long hair and lots of cologne. "Ciao, bella!", Alessandro trills in her ear. "Come; a final fitting before we get you ready".

As he's pulling her through their bedroom door, where her sparkling dress already hangs in the window, Harry intervenes.

"Nuh, uh, uh, not so fast! Give us two minutes", he playfully pulls Eloise into the crook of his arm and pushes Alessandro back out the door, closing it in his face with a cheeky grin.

Whirling around, he steps into her so suddenly, Eloise drops her bags and has to grasp on to the lapels of his dressing gown to keep her balance as he kisses her senseless.

"Well, hi!", she's taken aback.

"Hi! Missed you", he starts dropping kisses to her neck.

"Sorry, I'm late. Has it been this crazy all morning?", she chuckles.

"Mmm-", he's cut off by Alessandro, bursting back through the door with Harry Lambert hot on his heels.

"Time's up, piccioncini! Now you...", he points to Eloise, "Strip!".

Clocking Harry's raised eyebrow, she smirks before whipping her t-shirt over her head. Okay, then.

>

Once they were all satisfied with the final alterations to her dress, Eloise jumped in the shower before being promptly pinned down by a hairstylist and manicurist.

When the hairdryer eventually switches off, she can finally hear the conversation going on between Harry, Jeff and Harry Lambert, lounging across the room on the bed and sofas.

Harry's keen to hear about her few days in Boston with her new castmates, and fills her in on his various meetings and dinners.

>

Once her nails and toes are dry, and her curled hair pinned to set in tight ringlets, she ventures into the huge ensuite bathroom in search of Harry.

Padding across the signature black and white striped tile floor, she finds him leaning against the marble sink, with Harry Lambert standing close.

"Argh! Fuck, I just can't do it", he jumps backwards, hands flailing.

"Oh, you're useless", Harry bemoans. "Ooh, baby, can you give me a hand?".

She skips closer and quickly gets distracted, looking at all the Gucci jewellery spread across the counter, before it dawns on her what he's asking and she looks up in horror. "Oh, no way! I couldn't...", she babbles, but Harry grabs her wrist and tugs her closer, pivoting to cage her against the sink.

"Please? He's no help and we're running out of time", he deploys his best puppy eyes and dimpled grin.

Hooting as she promptly reaches to wash her hands, he lifts the ice cube back up to his earlobe again.

Tentatively taking the needle from Harry Lambert's palm, she looks at Harry sheepishly. "I've never done this before", she admits.

"Well, that's reassuring!", he scoffs sarcastically before shrugging. "How hard can it be? Just push hard and do it quickly".

With a gulp she steps closer. "It's a bit fiddly on these adorable little ears, actually!", her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, tilting her head back and closing one eye to check the tiny dot on his lobe is in the right place.

"Okay, ready?", she blows out a long breath.

"Go for it", he grins, cool as a cucumber.

"Okay...".

"...Sometime today".

"Shut it, or I'll button your lips instead!", she sasses back.

But she pulls back at the last second, "Shit, sorry".

Brow furrowed in concentration, she tries again before jumping back, "Argh, nope! I can't do it". She can't bring herself to hurt him.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you're both such wimps!", he huffs. "Give it here".

Twisting to the mirror, he takes the needle and, with just one deep breath, jabs it straight through his own earlobe. No nonsense.

She's not normally squeamish, but the thought of doing that to herself makes her stomach turn. Seeing the needle still piercing his ear and the blood starting to trickle down definitely doesn't help, so she recoils and darts out the bathroom, more eager than usual to settle into the make-up artist's chair.

>

A couple of hours later, Harry emerges from the bathroom, coiffed and dressed and looking devilishly handsome, just as her team are finishing her make-up.

The more she thinks about it, the less clear she is on the intended definition of 'camp', but he looks amazing, regardless; in a semi-sheer black lace blouse adorned with frills, a pussy-bow and fluted sleeves, paired with super high-waisted black trousers and heeled boots. A pearl earring adorns his new piercing and his collection of rings draws the eye to his black and teal manicure.

He looks nervous, tugging at his sleeves and fiddling with his rings. Shyly, he looks up at her, tugging at his lower lip. "Is this ridiculous?", he asks quietly.

"You look incredible! And, anyway, isn't a bit ridiculous the name of the game? I'm practically going as Studio 54", she laughs, gesturing to her dress, refracting sunlight around the room.

"It's a bit different for the girls...", he shrugs.

"I don't see why?", she shrugs. "You look great! Like a very worthy co-host".

As the hairstylist finishes teasing and backcombing her hair and temporary extensions, tightly curled into a riot of ringlets, to dance around her head, Eloise keeps a sly eye on Harry as he paces around the room, getting used to the heels on his black patent leather boots - by far the highest he's ever had to contend with.

Upon getting the nod from the stylist, she jumps up and blocks his path, quirking an eyebrow at their new six-inch height difference. Rising up on to the balls of her feet she reaches to peck a kiss to his lips, with a reassuring squeeze of his hands. "You'll be great, baby. I love you, so much".

Breaking from his tight hug, she steps back as everyone else starts filing out the room.

Harry Lambert tosses over a packet of silicone pasties, which Harry catches smoothly. "Help your girl out, H... I'll be back in a few minutes".

>

After Harry recovers from giggling at the decidedly unsexy shop mannequin effect of the nude nipple covers, he helps Eloise wrestle her way into the structured gown.

But he breaks into peals of laughter again at the sight of her bent over, trying to orient her boobs into the dress' engineered cups.

"God, I think this is going to chafe like a bitch", she groans, wiggling and tugging.

Harry Lambert returns, wearing his sunglasses in jest. "Fuck, it looks so, so good!", he gasps.

Essentially, it's a stylised glitter ball.

Oversized, mirrored, silver sequins adorn a structured minidress. Ruffles, pleats and a pussy-bow make it signature Gucci; albeit a little less flouncy than the materials Alessandro tends to favour.

Hitting mid-thigh, there's extra skin on show from a splice running the length of her back, baring the groove of her spine. Cinched in tightly at the waist, it's rounded shape exaggerates her slim hourglass curves; and it's pronounced, rounded shoulders and structured bust are essentially mini disco balls themselves.

It's going to be a riot on the dance floor later, for sure; she can't wait.

With such a statement dress, her accessories are pared back; well, relatively speaking.

Her nails and toes match her lipstick and the feather-adorned strappy high-heeled sandals - all lending a bright pop of fuchsia pink. She has a disco ball clutch bag, just big enough to house their iPhones, keys and her lipstick. And her only jewellery is her usual platinum diamond studs and conch piercing, and, of course, just one very special ring. Impressively, it almost manages to outshine the rest of her outfit.

Harry Lambert is snapping photos of them when Alessandro bustles back into the room for his final checks.

He's very pink, in a ruffled silk blouse and matching trousers, topped with a heavy crown and decked in a myriad of other jewels.

After fussing over them, primping and preening, he finally steps back to eye them appraisingly. "Perfetto!", he decides after a beat, with a clap of his hands. "Now, champagne! We still have twenty minutes", he claps again and spins on his heel.

One look at the others has Harry fretting that maybe he hasn't gone far enough.

The cohort dressed by Gucci for the night also includes Jared Leto (in a floor-length red velvet gown, with heavy chains of pearls and an accompanying effigy of his own head - only mildly less terrifying than the silicone mask made for Harry's body double in the Sign of the Times music video), Florence Welch (a veritable fairy queen in a gown of pale green and lilac sequins with an enormous cape and train), Dakota Johnson (in a magenta sequin gown, complete with a bleeding heart motif and heavy crown), and Saoirse Ronan (in a red, green and silver sequin gown with heavy gold laurel leaf embellishments).

They all look incredible.

A little insane; but incredible.

>

At 5.45pm, Alessandro, Vanni, Harry and Eloise need to head off first. After a quick pep talk from Jeff, they down their champagne and bid the others goodbye.

They are escorted by a handful of assistants and bodyguards, down in the lift to the basement car park. 

It's only stepping up into the blacked-out mini-coach, that Eloise realises her predicament.

She can barely sit down in her dress. The rigid, cinched waist is incredibly tight, and there's no give at all in the structured fabric. But, even if she avoids the discomfort and inability to breathe, it feels like she'll crush the rounded structure of the bottom half of her dress if she sits on it.

After a little pondering, she resorts to crouching between Harry's spread legs.

It's only a few minutes' drive from the hotel to the Met, but, holding on to him more tightly with each corner, pothole and jump on the brakes, with her thigh muscles burning, it feels more like thirty minutes for Eloise.

"Sembra che gli stia dando un pompino", Vanni laughs, setting off Alessandro, whose hooting laugh, in turn, sets off Harry as well.

From her position alone, Eloise can hazard a guess, but she's just glad she could offer a distraction and help allay their nerves.

Pulling up outside the museum, just before the bottom of the pink carpet, leading all the way up its grand steps, they're all taken aback at the hordes of photographers, film crews, crowds of onlookers and staff buzzing around.

After parting with good luck kisses, Eloise hangs back with Vanni, keeping out of sight in a blocked off walkway to one side of the carpet. Harry and Alessandro will circle back for them once they've done a first pass of the photographers and interviewers together.

>

A while later, peering from their vantage point, Eloise is distracted from following Harry's progress up the carpet, when his co-host, Lady Gaga, arrives. In what can only be described as performance art or immersive theatre, she reveals no less than four outfits in succession; from a fuschia pink smock with an enormous train, to reveal a black gown, then a strapless neon pink slip, then just her underwear and bejewelled tights.

Still craning to see (surely Gaga won't strip anything else off?), Eloise jumps feeling hands on her waist.

"Can't say I was expecting I'd feel underdressed!", Harry chuckles lowly, nuzzling her neck from behind.

Spinning her in his arms, he looks more relaxed and at ease. "Ready? I can't wait to show you off!", he beams at her, leaning in for a quick kiss before taking her left hand and intentionally checking her ring is on display.

>

Having presumed they'd already caught their fill of Harry, the photographers and press go wild upon seeing them together. It's their first public outing since reconciling and getting engaged.

After posing together for photos, then Harry stepping back for them get some of Eloise alone, he takes her hand again with a reassuring squeeze, then leads her over to the first of the interviewers, at the edge of the grand staircase behind a pretty floral border.

Given the prestigious nature of the event, and Harry's status in the role of co-chair, none of them goes too far. Any probing questions are on fashion and style or their thoughts on the theme, rather than any prying into their relationship and reconciliation.

"Eloise, it's so good to see you! You look amazing, who are you wearing?".

"Gucci, of course!".

"Now this is a beautiful and very sparkly look, but am I right in thinking that's not the first time you've been spotted in that ring?". 

"Maybe not", she smiles coyly, cutting her eyes to Harry.

"Eloise, we asked Harry already, but what does style mean to you?".

"Quite a lot, these days, as it happens...", she smirks, jostling Harry and beaming up at him.

"Congratulations, guys! Now, tell us, have you set a date? Should we expect our invites in the mail already?".

Harry takes that one, grinning down at her. "Don't hold your breath just yet! It's all so new; we're still definitely in that excited bubble. There's no crazy rush, right?".

"So you're both looking amazing in Gucci tonight. Is it safe to assume Alessandro's the favourite for when you walk up the aisle?".

"He better be!", the man himself quips, popping up behind them and slinging an arm around their shoulders. "They're my favourites! Just look at them, ugh, troppo carino!".

They make it to the top of the steps and into the museum lobby, posing for a final set of photos against the pink floral wall of a huge flamingo display. Harry can't resist pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

Beyond that, he and Alessandro are pulled aside to join the receiving line.

With Vanni on her arm again, Eloise heads inside to the bar.

>

With champagne in hand, they secure a prime position, with a view of all the arriving guests, commenting on the outlandish fashions as everyone stops to air kiss Anna Wintour, Serena Williams, Lady Gaga, Alessandro and Harry.

Whilst he's still on duty, Eloise pounces on familiar faces as they approach. There are plenty.

Rosie sweeps up the stairs in an elegant Oscar de la Renta embellished cream halter neck gown with enormous feather sleeves and train.

James and Jules are here too, in matching pale pink.

Rita is in a heavy gold Marc Jacobs gown and a platinum wig.

Alexa is relatively restrained in a floral mini-dress of her own design, with feather edging and a matching beret.

Gemma Chan is in an exquisite Tom Ford silver caped gown, but her enormous headpiece makes it anything but ordinary.

Hailee Steinfeld is there (sans Niall) in an amazing tiered, green and purple ombre dress with an ironic 'No photos please' emblazoned on its full skirt.

Kacey Musgraves is channelling full-on Barbie, with a blonde wig and a hot pink leather dress by Moschino.

Kendall is engulfed in bright orange Versace feathers.

Cara is in a Dior rainbow-striped mesh jumpsuit with a bonkers headpiece (including bananas and fake teeth) that almost takes one of Harry's eyes out.

It says a lot that Kate Moss' stunning silver sequin Marc Jacobs gown, complete with a matching floor-length cape, is the most restrained of the lot.

Eloise has never seen so many sequins, feathers, headdresses, ruffles, pink and neon in one place. It's bonkers.

So who's the wildest?

Gigi is practically unrecognisable in a full silver sequin embellished jumpsuit with a matching floor-length, feathered maxi suit jacket and a headdress reminiscent of a swimming cap. Otherworldly silver eyelashes only add to the effect.

Zendaya's princess gown not only lights up, but comes complete with its own fairy godmother, naturally.

But, true to form, it has to be Katy Perry. This year she's in a silver Moschino mini dress, but ups the ante, caged in a full-on lit up chandelier with a matching headdress.

>

Posting on social media is banned from inside the event, so everyone relaxes pretty quickly as they quaff champagne, then meander through the exhibit, to hang out in the cocktail lounge before heading in for dinner.

Eloise is pulled into a photo by a Vogue photographer. She, Gigi, Kate, Gemma, and a few more besides, are all definitely rocking the silver sequin trend.

A few people quickly strip off some of the more extreme elements of their outfits.

But as her feet start aching and Rosie's whining increases, Eloise gives up on waiting for Harry and makes her way inside.

She's absorbed in conversation with Julianne Moore, Emily Blunt and Tracee Ellis Ross (literally wearing a gold picture frame), when Harry sidles up behind her and hooks his arm around her waist, tugging her back and twisting to drop a kiss to her lips. "I could see you sparkling from over there, my disco queen!", he whispers before trying in vain to pull his attention from her to the women around them.

A good host must always remember his manners, and, with his earlier nerves abated, Harry's usual effortless charm is dialled all the way up to the max. Heaven help everyone; not least Eloise, who he can't help but parade around, proud as a peacock.

Both beaming, they definitely lap up all the congratulations and excitement over their engagement.

>

After a few cocktails - Harry, in particular, hadn't held back - they were finally called in to dinner.

It was only when they found the Gucci tables that Eloise remembered her predicament.

So, after an incredibly uncomfortable long meal - she'd had no choice but to sit, but the sequins and stitching digging into her waist did little to help her appetite, so hers had been a mostly liquid dinner - Eloise is one of the first to leap up, in relief, for the entertainment.

Harry's final duty, after filming some content for Vogue, was to introduce the surprise performer on stage. Given the theme, it had to be Cher.

>

Then, after a pit stop at the hotel to change - with Eloise deeply regretting not taking up the offer for a second outfit - they bundle back into the fleet of mini-coaches.

This time, with a longer journey, Eloise resorts to surreptitiously tugging her dress up to be able to perch on Harry's thigh.

But once his hands start roaming, they don't seem terribly inclined to stop.

And he's not the only one up for a party; everyone's in a great mood.

Eloise will be, just as soon as she can stand up again.

Gucci's retro-themed after-party is at Hunter College, in a sports hall.

On the way in, they all do a double-take to see Katy Perry, now in a burger dress with matching shoes, barely able to squeeze on to the elevator. Unexpected comedy gold.

Later, with their Gucci duties done for the night, Harry, Eloise and a few friends head across town to the Boom Boom Room at the Standard hotel.

Mark Ronson is on the decks, and a drunken Harry makes a nuisance of himself, enjoying the view from the DJ booth, whiling away an hour or so observing Eloise - the human disco ball - dancing up a storm with Rosie and Alexa.

>  
>

7th May 2019 (very early morning)

Their final stop is in Times Square, for the last after-party at the Moxy hotel's rooftop bar.

It's a little less rammed and all the more fun for it.

In the early hours, someone had commandeered the sound system and soon karaoke is in full swing.

Harry enthusiastically drags a very tipsy Eloise on stage, proudly - if a little slurrily - introducing her as his "Beautiful fiancee". Cueing up a song, he then promptly jumps off the stage, leaving her high and dry.

She's had more than enough champagne to shake off her inhibitions and grows in confidence throughout You & I - not least from her number one cheerleader, grinning moonily from the front row - only to have it bottom out in an instant.

She is completely taken by surprise when an arm slings around her waist, and does a comical double-take upon looking down to see it's Gaga herself - in just her underwear again - belting it out alongside her.

In total disbelief, and dying inside at having unwittingly tried to pass off an impression of someone in front of them, Eloise loses her shit for a solid verse, before figuring she'll never have the chance again and finding her nerve to finish it off in style alongside her.

After staggering from the stage to rapturous applause, Gaga grabs a hold of Eloise before she can head straight for a wildly whistling Harry.

But he interrupts their chat a short while later.

"Wow, you've bagged yourself quite the double-threat here, haven't you, Styles?", Gaga drawls, eyeing them both appraisingly.

"She writes and can dance too!", he adds, laughing as he swats away Eloise's attempts to silence his proud gushing.

"God, stop! How bloody drunk are you?", she whines, starting to think about getting him home.

>

Eventually managing to get him downstairs, just after dawn, Eloise drags him to a quiet corner of the lobby to fix his outfit and hair before checking her own, then hopping around as she begrudgingly puts her killer heels back on.

With a few soft slaps to his cheeks to rouse him again, she pulls his arm over her shoulder, reminds him to smile, then braves staggering the few steps to their waiting car.

Despite his less than sober state, he still smiles brightly, says "Hi" to the paps, and holds the car door open for her. What a pro.

>

Arriving at Harry's condo, Eloise eventually wrangles him upstairs.

Struggling to shush him as she sets about making tea and toast, soon enough, a sleepy Jeff emerges from the spare bedroom, keen to hear the gossip.

Eventually crashing into bed at 7am, the blackout curtains work their magic and they manage to sleep until early afternoon.

Still hungover, but keen not to waste any more of their final day together just monging around in bed, Harry scoops a very sleepy Eloise into his arms before depositing her in the bathtub and climbing in behind her.

They only emerge into the kitchen to order some food before heading straight back to bed to make the most of their time together.

>

Early that evening, two cars wait outside the condo. One to whisk her straight back up to Boston, to start filming Knives Out in a couple of days; and one for him and Jeff to head to JFK, for flights to London and LA, respectively.

Neither is in much of a fit state for their lengthy journeys or their modes of transport, and it makes saying goodbye that much tougher.

Only having been apart for a few days, at most, since their reconciliation in February, the prospect of a month apart feels more than a little daunting.

Little does Eloise know Harry already has a ticket booked for Boston in two weeks time; but, still, in his emotional and needy state it's just as tough for him too.


	11. Part K

3rd June 2019

Once the contracts and deeds were signed, funds transferred, keys handed over, and plans approved, the renovations began in earnest.

Unfortunately for Harry, it hadn't all been entirely smooth sailing. He'd received a few worrying phone calls and then, on Thursday, even had to leave a studio session early to dash home for an emergency meeting with the developers.

After Eloise's month away, he's desperately looking forward to her return home early this afternoon, but is definitely not looking forward to one conversation in particular.

Stuck on a call with Jeff and his record label team, just prior to submitting the final album, he hadn't been able to head to Heathrow to pick her up.

Waiting anxiously, his attention is divided; with one ear on Rob Stringer and the marketing team, he keeps a close eye on the time.

>

Hearing a soft cough from behind him, he spins in his desk chair; surprise written across his face.

She's leaning against the open door, offering him a happy, if tired, smile.

With a beaming one in return, he just has the wherewithal to mute his phone as he eagerly waves her over.

Swivelling his chair with his arms opens in silent invitation, she wastes no time in dropping on to his lap, draping herself over him.

Raking his curls off his forehead - all soft and springy, she knows he just left them to their own devices after a shower - she casts her eyes over his face, drinking him in.

"Hi!", she whispers brightly.

"Hi!", he grins back, keeping his voice just as soft.

"God, I've missed you".

"Ahh, that's sweet...", he leans forward to drop a kiss to her neck before stretching up to whisper in her ear. "But my fiancée would be pretty pissed to hear that".

Her swat at his arm and epic eye roll break his straight face. Creasing into giggles, he reaches a hand up to rake her hair out of her face, running the silky strands through his fingers. It's growing out now, sitting a couple of inches below her shoulders, but it stills holds the dark rinse from her Knives Out character, Marta.

"I'm kidding! I've really, really missed you, baby... And, for the record, you are also smoking hot as a brunette".

"Don't get used to it", she scoffs quietly. "Ugh, I can't wait to feel like me again!".

"I'll take you any which way I can get, you know that", his lips quirk into a dimpled grin. "But...", he adds, leaning closer and dropping his voice lower, "I'm on mute, why are we whispering?".

With an exasperated shake of her head, she strokes a finger down his sharp jaw before angling it up for a reunion kiss.

But they're soon interrupted. As Jeff repeats his name to direct a question his way, Harry scoots them back around to face the desk so he can reach for his phone.

Folding her long legs up, she snuggles into his lap and drops her head to his chest, eyes closing at the soothing thrum of his heart and the vibration of his chest as he talks.

>

She comes to with him twirling the ends of her hair, peppering kisses to the crown of her head. 

Burrowing further into his lap, she checks he's finished the call before mumbling around a yawn. "Sorry... Just need some coffee".

After rubbing her hands over her face she sits up and twists to face him, mustering some energy to give him a full-throttle smile. "Hi!".

She just catches it; the fleeting look in his eye as his own smile falters for just a second.

"What's up?", she puzzles, eyes darting between his.

He grimaces. "I've got something to tell you, but I really don't want to wipe that smile off your face", his shoulders drop defeatedly.

She lifts a finger to smooth the furrow between his brows.

"Oh, God...". Tipping his head back, it's his turn to rub his hands over his face.

Lifting a hand to his chin, she tips his head back down. "H, what is it? You're worrying me".

"You can tell me anything", she tries to quell her rising sense of dread. She's not sure she's ever seen him so sheepish before.

"I'm not sure I can...", he winces. "But I'll show you, come on".

>

Having walked around the corner to the new houses, and donned hard hats and hi-vis vests, Harry squeezes her hand as he leads her through the side gate towards the back garden.

He gestures for her to lead the way and drops his hands to her shoulders as he follows close behind, squeezing gently as she rounds the corner of the house and promptly freezes.

Gasping, she slaps a hand to her mouth, before taking hesitant steps forward, utterly speechless.

During the deep excavation work for the double basement, a pipe was accidentally clipped and the site partially flooded. Heavy machinery was called in to facilitate both the repairs and pumping out the excess water.

To quickly gain access, they'd had no choice but to take down the side fence and go in through the garden. But some unseasonably heavy rain last week meant the lawn had been hugely cut up; no thanks to the deep tire tracks, piles of piping, bags of concrete and steel girders.

That could have all been fixable, but the stone patio is also half dug up, and her beloved wooden archway taken down to allow the machinery room to manoeuvre, with both the rose and wisteria looking very much the worse for wear.

"Oh, my God...", she utters in disbelief after he hastily explains, stepping alongside her to watch her reaction closely. "Will they be able to fix it in time?".

"I don't think so, baby", he sighs lowly, squeezing her hand. "They can't even start trying until the basement walls have dried out and all the machinery leaves site. It's a waiting game; and that alone could take up to eight weeks".

Her face falls; reality sinking in.

"But this house is our forever home. We can't have that on dodgy foundations, right?", he reasons.

"We've bitten off a bit more than we can chew, trying to have it here, in September, haven't we?", she looks at him dejectedly, tugging at her pouting lip.

"A bit ambitious, maybe?", he chuckles softly. "It was worth a shot, but these guys have been killing themselves trying to get it ready on time, and I don't want them cutting any corners in a rushed job". He gestures to the sheepish builders and contractors, giving the pair of them a wide berth.

Stepping in front of her, he intentionally blocks her view of the ruined garden. He shifts, trying to obscure the gaping hole at the bottom of their house behind her head. "I want our wedding to be perfect, I do; but it is just one day. I know your heart's set on it, baby... But is it set on having it here, or having it then more, hmm?", he bends his knees to look her straight in the eye. "We don't need to decide right now. Sleep on it".

"I don't need to", she insists quickly, shaking her head. "I can't bear the thought of waiting, Harry".

In an instant, his frown fades, replaced with a beaming, dimpled grin. "I was really hoping you'd say that! Emma's been looking into venues again... Let's leave these guys to it and go back to the house to check them out".

Eloise pauses to look around again, taking it all in. With a deep breath, she lets out a lingering sigh. "I still absolutely bloody love it though", she smiles up at him.

"Well, I was hoping you'd say that, too!", he laughs. "Come on", he squeezes her hand and tips his head towards the side gate.

>

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her close as they walk back down the road. "So, baby, what do you want to do today? I'm all yours".

Reaching up to twine their hands, she mulls over the possibilities for a beat. "Well, after a month rattling around old mansions in rural Massachusetts, wearing the same daggy clothes day in day out... I want to wash Marta out of my hair once and for all, then get dressed up in something fancy, and go out for dinner somewhere with my amazing fiancé". Stretching up, she smacks a kiss low on his check before whispering in his ear, "...But, first, I want you. Obviously!".

"You just sort your hair and pick an outfit; leave all the rest to me". In a smooth move, he pivots and bends, folding her over his shoulder before dashing through the gate and straight upstairs.

>  
>

10th June 2019

Emma's a wizard.

The following Monday, just a week later, Harry and Eloise head to the airport, off to check out a few shortlisted venues.

They'll spend a night at each, trying them on for size.

Is this the food they want their friends and family to dine on?   
The wine they want to toast their future with?   
Is this where they want to wake up for the first time as husband and wife?

>

Upon landing, they picked up a rental car. It's not a vintage Ferrari this time either, to his dismay. 

With security paramount - Emma had even sent the shortlisted venues NDAs to complete - they'll need to try to stay under the radar whilst checking out venues, so they settle on a more practical black Mercedes SUV.

Their first stop is a beautiful Castello, in a remote little village on the outskirts of Rome, just beyond Tivoli and its famous gardens.

As they snake their way along the twisting driveway, the rows of perfectly manicured Italian cypress trees eventually part to reveal the majestic medieval castle. Its stormy grey stone facade is in stark contrast with the green and blue hues surrounding it.

Sharing matching, awed expressions, they look around in silent appreciation as Harry parks up.

But they both struggle to keep a straight face when they're greeted by the hotel manager - the most serious older man either has ever met.

Evidently, he takes weddings very seriously. And, indeed, NDAs too; they don't see another soul throughout their tour.

He sombrely leads them through the connecting courtyards and terraces, past the outdoor pool, down to the boathouse.

The grounds are pristine, and beautifully looked after; all manicured lawns, finely tended pot plants and sculpted shrubbery.

After checking out the spa at the old boathouse on the edge of the lake, they circle back to head inside.

It's even more impressive. Through stone hallways and arched doorways, they take in the bar, lounge and restaurant, and even head down to the wine cellars.

It's all certainly grand; filled with dark woods, antique artworks and tapestries, opulent textures and rich colours.

But it's deathly silent; to the extent that it feels a little like a museum.

Having to avoid catching Harry's eye, for fear of breaking into inappropriate giggles, Eloise distracts herself trying to imagine it filled with their friends and family, with laughter and music reverberating off the cold stone walls.

At the end of a long corridor, they arrive at the old banqueting hall, where the wedding ceremonies are held. Panelled with dark wood, with a galleried balcony and intricate detailing, it's dark and intimate.

The manager shows them photos of the room set up with chairs, drapes, flowers and a carpet down the aisle, with soft lighting from hundreds of flickering candles. It's a lot, but no doubt a stunning and incredibly atmospheric space.

As they head up a level, Eloise is wracked with shivers from the drafty wide stone staircase. Given the balmy Italian sunshine outside, she's only in a strappy chambray sundress, so goosebumps soon break out across her arms.

Slowing her ascent as they near the top of the stairs, she hooks her arm around Harry's waist, snuggling into his side.

After dropping a kiss to her forehead, he's about to open his mouth when the manager spins on his heel and gestures them through to the formal dining room and the one table for two, set by the mammoth stone fireplace dominating the far wall.

He disappears again just as quickly, leaving them to their own devices.

Harry gentlemanly pulls Eloise's chair out for her before sitting down opposite, eyebrows raised. "Umm-", He looks around comically.

Her uncontainable giggles set him off too.

They're wiping tears from their eyes with their napkins when they're interrupted by the returning manager, proffering a bottle of red wine. It's local, made at a nearby vineyard.

>

He keeps them coming; glass after glass. And faster than the chef - presumably hidden somewhere in the bowels of the castle - can keep up with.

The plates of canapés and hors d'oeuvres are followed by sharing plates to sample endless starters, mains, desserts and cakes. It's a veritable banquet.

If Eloise is feeling tipsy after the starters, she's definitely drunk before they sample any desserts. And Harry's not faring much better.

Each time the manager re-emerges, they school their chatter and laughter, and try to maintain a respectful silence. It's increasingly difficult; but, hey, at least she's no longer feeling cold.

By 8pm, they're done; unable to eat or drink anything else.

After promptly escorting them up a couple of flights of stairs to the honeymoon suite, the manager mumbles "Buona Notte" before shutting the door and leaving them to it.

>

Harry promptly lets out a snort of laughter.

"Shh!", Eloise shushes him, eyes sparkling with mirth and cheeks flushed from the wine. She tilts her head, listening out. "Do you think he's going to lock us in?".

"Either way, we've definitely been banished!", he chuckles in disbelief.

Seeing their holdalls have already been brought up to the room, Eloise wastes no time in diving for hers to rummage for a sweatshirt.

Looking around, he's distracted, taking in the details of the suite. A huge wooden four-poster bed with heavy red velvet drapes sits opposite an imposing stone fireplace, flanked by austere artworks and wardrobes. The deep stone walls are at least a metre thick, visible around the small windows. A dressing table sits along one wall, and a red velvet chaise longue fills the wall between the windows, with matching curtains draping across the entrance to the cavernous ensuite bathroom.

Turning back around, he catches Eloise pulling on her - his - sweatshirt. "No, no, no!", he whines, "Honeymoon suite means fewer clothes, not more clothes".

"It's bloody freezing, and we're not married yet!", she sasses him.

But, with a few quick strides, he tugs her against his chest and teasingly dances his fingers under the hem of her dress at mid-thigh. Goosebumps break out again, and, with another shiver, she tries to swat him away.

"Shit! You are cold! Your hands feel like ice, baby", he yelps, trying to twist away as she predictably tries to bury them under his shirt and tank top.

"Get into bed, I'll light this", he gestures to the fireplace.

As he busies himself knelt in front of the fire, Eloise lights the candles of the ornate wall sconces before switching off the lights and jumping under the covers.

Stripping down to his boxers, Harry smirks down at her, flicking his eyes to the heavy red velvet drapes surrounding the bed. "How are these making you feel?".

"Pretty unnerved, to be honest", she grimaces, eyeing them suspiciously.

"And how is this Castello making my Principessa feel, hmm?", he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head for effect.

"Pretty unnerved, to be honest", she repeats sheepishly, adding with a wince, "Sorry".

"Totally fair enough", he nods, slipping into bed. "It's amazing and looks exactly like the pictures, but it just feels so cold, in every sense of the world... Come here, let me warm you up".

He wastes no time in wrapping himself around her, arms and legs intertwining.

Things do indeed heat up in no time.

As lips press and pillow and suckle, hands dance and dip and stroke.

And he wastes no time in peeling off her sweatshirt, then sundress and underwear.

As he's pressing kisses, making his way down her stomach, lower and lower, she flinches.

With a slightly delayed reaction, he pulls back. Propping himself up on an elbow, he casts his curious gaze up at her. "What's up, babe?".

"Hmm?", she answers distractedly after a beat, then dropping her hand to his hair, twining her fingers through his thick curls. "Nothing".

"Well, I can think of something that's definitely up...", he smirks cheekily, before promptly getting back down to business.

>

A couple of minutes later, she stills her writhing under his attention, curling to half sit up, and reaching to drag the covers back over her body.

"H, stop", she tugs at his hair, trying to get his attention.

"Ugh, what now?", it's his turn to groan. He rests his head on her thigh and lolls it to peer up at her through narrowed eyes.

"What the fuck was that noise? Did you hear it?".

"That little mewl from the back of your throat? Yeah, it's one of my favourite sounds, baby", he smirks cleverly.

"Oh, shush! No...", she paws at his shoulder in a weak attempt to pull him up from between her legs. "That! There!", she whispers, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Huh? What?", he begrudgingly shifts to rest his weight on his forearms either side of her waist, dipping his head to press nuzzling kisses slowly back up her stomach towards her breasts, as his hips shift from pressing to rutting gently into hers, seeking some relief.

"Sssh! Well no, don't stop, but just listen...". She squeezes his bum with her calf, encouraging the slow roll of his hips. "Hear it?".

"No...? Yeah...? I don't know! Fuck, it's a little hard to concentrate right now, baby...", he flexes his hips for emphasis.

"Shh!".

"Oh, my God, stop shushing me!", he rolls his eyes at her before tilting his head, listening out exaggeratedly.

"Oh, yeah! Now, that I heard...", he shifts his weight forward to crane his neck and lick up the shell of her ear. "It's my dick, weeping, begging to get on with it".

"Oh, my God, shut it! I'm being serious".

"Okay, okay... Ooh, that?", he gasps before sinking closer again, whispering in her other ear. "That was definitely my balls, screaming as they crawl up into my body in protest".

"Harry!", she can't help but laugh as she scolds him, but then stops abruptly, face paling as she tries to push him back to sit up. "That! That scraping noise... Don't you hear that?".

He sighs and listens out, closing one eye and quirking his lips in concentration for a few seconds. "Nope, nothing, nada... What kind of supersonic hearing do you have, anyway? I get mine tested a fair bit because of the in-ears and amps, but that's actually a bit worrying", he frowns.

"Really?", she mouthes, making him do a double-take.

"Wait, is there really a noise? If this is a joke...", he snaps his hips into hers in warning.

"Yes!", she groans out. "Fuck, this place gives me the heebie-jeebies".

"Awww, are you scared, princess?".

"Oh, shut up".

"It's nothing! I've got you, baby... Now, please, just relax", he punctuates his plea, planting kisses from her lips, down her neck, to her chest and then breasts to lathe at her nipples, shifting his hips to slide home.

Entirely distracted, her throaty moan is cut off abruptly as Harry suddenly pops back up on a straight arm, whipping his head around towards the locked door. The scraping and creaking noises were quiet, but undeniable.

They both still, holding their breaths as she curls closer, wrapping a hand around his straining bicep to steady herself.

He turns back to her, face a picture. "Well, that door's thick enough, I suppose...", he shrugs. "I promised you I'd make you feel good", he drops an enticing kiss to her lips, before calling out, over his shoulder, "So any voyeuristic ghosties need to fuck off, please!".

Turning back to face her, he lowers himself back down until he presses her into the mattress. "Now, if you'll just stop clenching around me like a fucking vice, I can have you feeling a whole lot better in no time... Let me kiss goodbye my dream of marrying my princess in a castle, then we'll sleep, and then get the fuck out of here first thing in the morning, okay? Just give me tonight, please?".

Well, how could she possibly refuse him that?

Reaching to smoothly tug at the ties of the drapes to either side of the bed, he shrouds them in heavy fabric.

It's heavenly, and instantly feels more cosy and secure, without the shadows from the candlelight and firelight dancing across the cold stone walls.

Almost pitch black in their little cocoon, their other senses sharpen to compensate, making it seem all the more intimate.

The smell of the last vestiges of their perfumes, mingling with the burgeoning, unmistakable scent of sex.  
The taste of the red wine lingering on their tongues and the salty tang blooming on their skin.  
The sound of their breath catching around erotic hisses and sighs.   
The press of hips, and his fingers dancing over her goosebumps - back with a vengeance.

>  
>

12th June 2019

Having hightailed it from the castle, they were ready to love venue number two. And they really tried.

Their first impressions of the tiny ancient village, or borgo, equidistant between Rome and Naples, were positive enough.

It's a luxury resort providing four thousand acres of privacy, encompassing vineyards, a winery, a golf course, equestrian centre, and even a small 12th-century chapel.

The eight hundred-year-old estate is beautifully renovated, complete with two restaurants, a spa, tennis courts, and an outdoor infinity pool with views across the valley and rolling hills beyond. Its fifty rooms and suites are dotted around in a variety of converted stone buildings. It's luxurious, but homely and oozing with character.

It ticked so many boxes, and the lovely owners gave it their very best sell, but Harry and Eloise just weren't feeling it.

It was promising, but a little dusty and remote. Tranquil and relaxing, but a little blah.

Conscious of wanting to justify the trip for everyone, they were looking for the place, as opposed to just a place.

>

The next day, they arrive at venue number three.

Again, they want to love it, they really do - and both try acting like they do for a while, not wanting to disappoint the other - but there's no getting around it.

The new hotel on the Amalfi coast is stunning, and, as-yet unopened, understandably empty.

But, beyond people and inhabitants, it just feels a bit too sparse, too aloof, too soulless.

That's made all the more apparent, given its location in the middle of a busy road, right in the centre of town. And it doesn't have enough rooms for everyone, so their guests - many with recognisable faces - would inevitably be spotted, walking back and forth.

Both Harry and Eloise quickly realise they wouldn't stand a chance of keeping a wedding here private and under wraps.

That problem is unsurmountable; a deal-breaker and no-brainer.

>

However, that doesn't stop them enjoying an incredibly memorable long lunch in its breathtaking restaurant.

Carved into the cavernous cliffside below the hotel, with the tang of salt in the air and waves crashing on to the rocks below them; it's positively elemental.

Despite feasting on a divine local tasting menu and sampling some fine Italian wines, they both only have eyes for each other. With the discrete staff hanging back, they're largely undisturbed.

It's so rare for them to get to be totally at ease; so to get to enjoy complete privacy, in such an amazing setting, is nothing short of a treat.

However, the conversation eventually turns to something they've been putting off.

Well, Eloise has tried to raise it on a few occasions, but Harry had squirmed out of it every time, too awkward, too embarrassed. But time's running out.

A pre-nup.

After a sigh and pointed look at his predictable reaction, with her long fingers entwined and playing with his, Eloise perseveres and manages to keep him focused long enough to finally hear her out.

She's insistent; just on principle.

"I'm not driven by money, H, you know that... Although I appreciate that I can say that because it's never been an issue for me. I have family money on both sides, and I'm doing more than okay for myself...", she admits frankly.

"But you experienced phenomenal success and made a fortune long before we ever got together - which is pretty unbelievable, given you were just twenty-one! But all that is irrefutably, undeniably, entirely yours, and it always will be. I'd never, ever be comfortable with the idea of staking any sort of claim on any of that", she catches him still his squirming as a panicky look crosses his face, and she ploughs on, keen to reassure him.

"Forever means forever, Harry, and you have to know that I have absolutely zero intention of ever not being with you... But, just thinking about it rationally, well, we can both be pretty stubborn and hot-headed, and, God forbid, if anything unforeseen or untoward could ever happen, having something to fall back on that we'd agreed with calm and cool heads could only ever be a good thing, right?". She's desperate for him to understand her point of view on this.

Eventually, he caves - appropriately enough for their surroundings - but, in another display of his master negotiation skills, won't back down on a few terms of his own.

"A lifelong partnership means fifty-fifty, El, in everything... So, excluding my net worth from anything dated before 4th July 2015, everything else would have to be fifty-fifty. My earnings, your earnings, joint investments... And, with your thinking in mind, I'd only consider agreeing to a pre-nup", he spits the word, distastefully, "If it also stipulates that I could never stake any claim on your earnings and investments from before we were together, or any family inheritance you might come into".

He smirks at her gaping at him, taking a casual sip of his wine before adding with a cheeky shrug, "Just, you know, on principle".

>

As they make their way back up the cliffside steps from the restaurant to the back terrace, Harry tugs on her hand in his and pulls her around to face him. "Pretty as this is, I'm not sure there's much point staying here tonight, is there?".

She quirks her lips and scrunches her nose cutely, admitting defeat.

"Well, Goldilocks...", he reaches up to flip her blonde-again hair behind her shoulder. "I really thought number three would be the winner, but 'too spooky, too blah, too busy'...", he counts on his fingers, "It looks like we've struck out, right?". He dejectedly scuffs his formerly clean white Vans on the dusty terracotta tile of the terrace.

"Was I too picky?", she can't help but pout. "Maybe there's another hotel near here and we could see how it might work, across the two?", she's grasping at straws and they both know it.

"Sure, we could give it a try... But we need to be in Rome by early tomorrow morning to meet with Alessandro, so we won't have much time", he reasons. "Let's get Emma back on the case, and we can make another trip if we need to".

"Okay, sure", she nods. "Man, I really had a good feeling that we'd find somewhere", she whines. "I guess we could take another look at dates too? Maybe September is just a bit too ambitious?".

"But then we're talking late next year at the earliest...", it's his turn to whine. "Baby, I really don't think I can bear to wait that long-".

"Me either!", she cuts in, in solidarity. "But it is a bit of a tall ask, I guess? Emma can only work so much magic".

"Hmm, she is pretty great, isn't she?".

"Absolutely", she smiles sweetly. "I have total faith that if anyone can help us find somewhere perfect, it's her".

"That's what I said!", he grins slyly "...When she showed me this one!".

He whips out a few folded up papers from his back pocket. Beaming with excitement, he waggles it teasingly around and over her head, just out of reach.

"Want to see the wildcard?", he sing-songs, before promptly spinning on his heel and sprinting off, back through the lobby towards the car park, calling out "Thank you's" and "Goodbye's" over his shoulder.

Laughing as she approaches the car, playfully tossing the keys in her palm - he'd forgotten she'd had them in her bag - she backs him against the car and kisses him hotly, using his immediate and total distraction to pluck the papers from his grip, promptly swatting him over the head with it.

Eagerly unfolding the pages, she struggles to contain her beaming smile at his antics and evident excitement. With one look at the header photo, she gasps, whipping her head back up in a comical double take that has her cricking her neck.

Whilst she's still distractedly pouring over the details, he opens her door and helps her up into the passenger seat, chuckling all the while as he rounds the bonnet and programmes the sat nav for the nearby town of Maiori.

>  
>

13th June 2019

The next day, after reluctantly setting off early for the three-hour drive back to Rome, they stop by Alessandro's Gucci atelier before flying home, to chat about what they each have in mind for the wedding, so that he and his team can get to work.

After greeting them effusively in reception, Alessandro soon separates them.

Taking Harry by the arm, he turns to reassure Eloise. "He'll be quick, I think... This is Sylvia, she'll show you some fabrics", he says by means of an introduction. "I'll be with you soon".

>

Making an uncharacteristically subtle entrance a while later, Alessandro sneaks up behind Eloise.

True to his word, she still hasn't quite worked her way through all the fabric swatches, too busy chatting with the lovely Sylvia.

But her attention is soon diverted, as he leans down from behind her to spread a few sketches on the desk in front of her with a dramatic flourish.

Holy shit!

They're unexpectedly simple, and so elegant.

Okay, one's entirely pearl-embellished and figure-hugging with sexy straps. It's absolutely incredible, but not quite right, for a wedding, not for her.

The other three are more classic, but just as stunning. 

An embellished lace, partially see-through dress, with a pleated heavy silk skirt, almost meeting in the front, providing some coverage but still leaving a flash of skin and leg.

And two sketches have the same delicate mesh and embellished top. But one has a floaty, fluid, silk skirt; and the other, a bigger skirt, comprised of layers of delicate tulle with a thigh-high split.

Immediately welling up and stunned silent as she pours over the intricate details, eyes flitting from one sketch to the other, Eloise grasps Alessandro's hand as he sits beside to her.

She wasn't sure she had anything specific in mind, so cannot envisage how he could possibly have created options quite so perfect before they'd even discussed anything.

Still rendered speechless, she can only gape at him in shock for a while. "Oh, my God! You genius! They are so beautiful, so perfect", she eventually babbles.

Giggling at her reaction, Alessandro gestures to himself with a raised eyebrow (all flounces, ruffles, textures and heavy statement jewellery; undoubtedly maximalist), then to her (elegantly pared-back and classical).

"If I had a face and a body like yours, I'd let them do the talking too, believe me! I'm honoured to get to dress you on your most special day, Eloise; I won't foist my tastes on you for it. I want to design this for you... I only want to make you and that wonderful man of yours happy". Swallowing thickly, he scoots his chair back and nudges her to stand up, to get a better look at her.

"The real challenge is that there's too much to show off", he grins, rubbing his hands with glee. He jumps up to stand next to Sylvia, who's dutifully poised to scribble some notes. "Hmm... So it has to be classy and elegant. A luxurious, light fabric with lots of movement. And structured to show off this slim hourglass shape and that neck and those legs. Best keep the bust under wraps though, no? Don't want Harry fluffing his vows!". The colloquialism is even funnier with his heavy accent.

He proceeds to talk her through the four sketches and his recommended fabrics, before grabbing a length of silk and wrapping it around her to demonstrate a number of cuts, pleats, drapes and folds.

It's fascinating, exciting and reassuring, all at once.

After Sylvia dutifully takes all of Eloise's measurements, they agree he'll have patterns cut of her two favourites, for her to try on and make a decision at their next session.

>

A short while later, Alessandro leads Eloise back out to reception, where Harry sits thumbing through a design magazine. "H, there you are! Let me just go and check if they've found those two Pantone colours in both fabric options yet, okay?".

Harry grins conspiratorially as Eloise looks between them, with a beaming smile breaking over her face.

"What?", Alessandro laughs as he turns to head back to his office.

She just pivots neatly and throws her arms around his neck in a tight, grateful hug.

Harry chuckles alongside them. "Happy then? Good progress?".

"Beyond happy!", she spins back to him. "It's a wedding dress!", she squeals excitedly, her face the picture of disbelief, like it's just hit her.

"Glad to hear it!", he grins over her head to Alessandro, mouthing a 'thank you' as he swoops her into a tight hug.

She kisses him enthusiastically, before pulling back and staring at him moonily. "We're getting married!", she whispers.

"Ooh, has the penny finally dropped?!", he sasses, although unable to contain his dimpled grin. Fuck, she's adorable, and she's his.

"It just feels so real now! It's so exciting!".

"It is", he nods, simply.

"God, there's so much to do, though...", she shakes her head, eyes wide and letting out a deep breath.

"We've got three and a half months! Chill... Sorting a venue and making headway on what we'll be wearing isn't bad for one day, don't you think?", he reasons.

"I'd call that a pretty strong start, yeah", she grins again.

"Come on, let me take you to that cute bar you liked before we need to head to the airport. We can start writing a list... I'm sure wine will help".

"Oh, my God, are we really doing this?! Are you ready?".

"We absolutely are, and I absolutely am", he reassures her, cool as a cucumber. "September cannot come fast enough as far as I'm concerned; I cannot wait to make you Mrs. Styles", he drops his forehead to hers.

"Bring it on!". She melts back against his chest, tilting her head up to capture his lips again.

Alessandro interrupts them, calling out to Harry. "We don't have the swatches, but we'll order them in, which usually only takes a few days. Just text me nearer the time with the best address to send them to".

After more heartfelt thank yous and loose plans for when he'll need to see them both again, Alessandro smothers them both in kisses before bidding them goodbye.

As they're halfway through the door, he calls out, "Oh, and El? You better believe I'm making you that pearl one for your first Oscar's, okay?".

His unwavering affection and generosity renders her speechless, for the third time today.

Series continues with '12 | Forever yours'.


End file.
